#anyway ya boy has been writing fic and napping and taking nice walks

[patrice-bergerons]

For the short angsty prompts, how about

" Who did this to you?"

Thankies :D

The door to his office opens without so much as a perfunctory knock to ask for permission.  If he was in a better mood, Q might find it remarkable that he can tell it is Bond who walks in from his gait alone, from the way his footsteps fall one after the other, lithe and sure of himself. 

Alas, he is not in a good mood, and it is only begrudgingly he tears his eyes away from the monitor to regard the agent.  Just as he thought, he catches a hard, furious expression forming on Bond’s face as his eyes narrow and his jaw clenches.  Bond opens his mouth.  Q cuts him off.

“A a-” He gestures sharply to the whiteboard before turning his attention back to the screen.  The whiteboard reads-

NO ONE “DID THIS” TO ME

I CRASHED MY BIKE

MY FAULT ENTIRELY

He has broken his wrist, the left side of his face is badly bruised, and every field agent employed by Six appears to have joint custody of a single, communal brain cell.  The first ‘who did this to you’, uttered by 009 shortly after he returned from A&E, was endearing despite the mortification of the explanation that followed but that was five agents ago.

Bond laughs though—a rare, genuine bark of a laugh—and Q feels a knot he didn’t register before in his chest loosen a bit at the sound.

He looks up again from the code that is throwing nothing but a string of errors in his face; finds laughter lingering in the corners of Bond’s eyes still.  His eyes are the storm that will break you in two and the harbour that keeps you safe.

Q sighs.

“I feel as if I have been adopted by a pack of German shepherds.”  Feeling a bit more charitable now, he adds- “it’s endearing, I suppose.”

It earns him a smile—one part classic Bond, dazzling and up to no good, and one part something quieter and horribly out of place under the fluorescent lights of Q’s office.

“You are the reason we come home.”

Q’s gut twists at the words.  

He is the reason they come home but only for a short while—just last week he listened to 003 draw a last, ragged breath in Prague before evac could arrive.  Anything else Bond might mean by the words—it doesn’t bear thinking about.  Not with this wrist.  You are the reason I come home.

Some of it must show on his face, pain and frustration gnawing at his usually iron-clad defences.  Bond says, 

“The world is for once not on fire.  Take the rest of the day off.”

Q wants to argue with him just out of spite.  He is not some delicate flower all of his agents seem to think that he is.  He is fine and he can tell when he is good to continue and when he needs to take a step back without having to be told like a child, thank you very much.  Bond can’t come into his office and just say these things.

But Bond is right that they are for once in a miraculous lull of nefarious activity worldwide and he just doesn’t seem to be able to focus enough on this bloody simple coding project to crack it.  His wrist is all but calling for the codeine in his bag, the bruises on his body for the sweet covers of his bed.

And yet.

“You have too much work?”

Q nods, typing two lines of code one handed that get him nowhere.  He is not hurt that badly.

This doesn’t deter 007.

“Well, there is only one solution then,” he says walking up to Q, past his desk.  Q tries to summon the strength to stay annoyed with him.  He is annoyed with him.  It’s just that the playful mischief that rings in his voice is more addicting than any drug, more dangerous than any weapon—has been for years.

“Is that right?”

“I’ll have to kidnap you.”  Bond comes to a stop just by his chair.  “I’m informed I’m a mean old German shepherd.”  

Then without warning he raises hands he fashioned into claws and bares his teeth.

The sight is so unexpected and out of character, Q bursts out laughing, and laughs and laughs until there is no air left in his lungs and they feel as if they are being skewered by his bruised ribs.  When he wipes the tears from his eyes and can see clearly again he finds Bond looking ridiculously pleased with himself.  Happy, almost. 

Perhaps in another life.  A kinder, easier life, and he would have smiled like this every day.

In this one, Q settles for handing Bond a small victory.

“I’ll talk to R,” he says, standing up and suppressing a wince.

#00q #007 fest #007 fest 2022 #teambondvillains #anyway ya boy has been writing fic and napping and taking nice walks #when i promised my boss a deliverable by eod today #so gotta go do evil corporate things now real quick LOL #hope you enjoy!!

[reluctant-mandalore]

🎃Mandoctober🎃Day 23: Rifle

After being captured, the Mandalorian is shocked to see you come to his rescue while skillfully wielding his pulse rifle. 

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of blood and injury. Weapons usage (pulse rifle). Also reader kicking some scummy bounty hunter ass. Not beta read. 

Pairing: Din Djarin x Gender Neutral Reader (also badass reader)

Word Count: 1,644

a/n: Hey everyone! Just a short and sort of cheeky fic about the reader using Mando’s pulse rifle to save him. I’m not good at writing fight scenes so its mostly just ambiguous without much detail to it. Anywho, I thought it was a nice little change up from some of the typical stuff I write! Endings kinda weird ngl, but I honestly had no clue how to end it. So... 👀

The Mandalorian had never been more angry in his life. The job was supposed to be a simple one that involved the capture and a return of a petty thief, but of course nothing seemed to be that easy for him. Out of all the things that could have gone wrong with this job, he never thought it would turn out to be a plot meant to capture the Mandalorian and the child. 

This was what exactly had happened though, and what was supposed to be a simple job, had turned into something much more complicated. He had ended up finding himself ridiculously outnumbered and overpowered more quickly than he had liked, resulting in his capture by the other bounty hunters. How he fell to some scummy low-life hunters he’d never know, but it had happened, and now he had to find a way out of the situation. 

The other bounty hunters had chuckled and chattered in delight over being able to trick the Mandalorian. The confidence they had felt from doing so wafted off of them in waves, annoying the beskar hunter beyond belief. Once he got himself out of this, he’d make sure to wipe those smirks right of their cheeks. 

One of the hunters had sauntered over to the cuffed Mandalorian, confidence in each step he took. He only stopped when he was standing mere inches in front of the imprisoned man. At first the hunter had only stared at him, his head tilting at the sight of the blood which dripped from the wound in Mando’s side. 

“That’s gotta hurt, huh?”

The Mandalorian didn’t reply, refusing to waste words on someone like the hunter before him. This man held no honour in his eyes, and as far as he was concerned, he wasn’t worth a single syllable from his own lips. 

“Not goin’ to talk, are ya?” He laughed, “Should hav’ expected as much from someone of yer kind.”

The smirk on his lips was crooked, his eyes holding a sinister glare, as his voice dripped with more venomous taunts, “Won’t be long till the rest of the boys get back with the asset and that precious little ‘friend’ of yers anyway.”

Flames of anger began to ignite within the Mandalorian at the mention of you and the child. The thought of the two of you being in danger now due to his oversight made his blood boil and his heart ache in panic. He knew he had to find a way to get out of this in order to save you both. He couldn’t stand the thought of knowing that you were in trouble, and it honestly terrified him to his core. 

The concern he felt  made him begin to pull at the restraining device holding him, ignoring the pain which shot through him from his wound that continued to bleed steadily. Seeing this had made the hunters in close proximity laugh at his attempt, the one standing before him loudest among the bunch. Their reactions had only solidified his need to free himself though, and his mind desperately searched for a solution for his current predicament. 

“Ya know…” The hunter trailed off, eyeing the beskar covered man and the helmet which rested on his head, “I heard once that Mandalorians don’t ever remove their helmets.”

One of the other hunters had scoffed, “That’s ridiculous!” 

“No it’s true!” Another had piped in, “I heard they don’t ever show their face to no one.” 

Murmurs had spread out among the group of hunters nearby now, small bits of bickering could be heard as they discussed the rumors around his helmet. The Mandalorian had frozen in place at hearing their words, as now he was also becoming increasingly worried for the creed he had swore. It wouldn’t be the first time an enemy has attempted to remove his helmet after all, and he wouldn’t put it past these ones to try as well. 

“Well Mando is it true?” The hunter before him asked, “Hav’ ya never really taken off that bucket of yers?”

Silence. The only sound coming from the Mandalorian, who sat in his own blood, was the soft intake of breaths he took. Behind him, his hands fiddled with the restraining device quietly, hoping he’d be able to get it undone before the hunter tried whatever he was thinking of doing. 

“Don’t matter if ya won’t answer.” The hunter taunting him approached closer now, his grimy hand grabbing roughly at the chin of the helmet shielding the Mandalorian’s face from view. “Cause I want a peek, whether you like it or-” 

The man never got to finish his words, as in an instant he had turned to puffs of ashes and sparks before the Mandalorian. Everyone in the dimly lit room had jumped from surprise at the sudden attack, not prepared for it to occur, and panic soon flowed from hunter to hunter, as they tried to find the source of the blast.  

After the first shot, it didn’t take much longer for more to follow. Every shot from the pulse rifle in question hitting its desired targets without fail, the bright blasts shooting across the open area and disintegrating each hunter they managed to hit in an instant. The other bounty hunters fell quickly, not able to keep up with the assault that was suddenly brought upon them, and the Mandalorian watched in bewilderment at the chaos taking place before him. 

Honestly, he just really hoped that this unknown person with a pulse rifle was here to rescue him, though he knew not to get his hopes up either way. 

Once again silence had filled the space, the other bounty hunters now either piles of ash or limps bodies on the floor surrounding him. Shuffling could be heard in the distance, and he watched impatiently for his rescuer to come into view, though nothing could prepare him for what he was about to see. 

The Mandalorian had felt his jaw drop while watching you walk out from the shadows, his pulse rifle held firmly in your grasp. The light filtering in through the cracks of the ceiling made itself into a shimmering veil around your form, illuminating you in the darkened space, and making you seem like a divine being sent from the maker themselves. 

“Hey Mando!” Your voice was cheerful and light, almost as if you didn’t just blast a bunch of men twice your size to pieces, “Sorry I’m a little late.” 

His mouth had moved in an attempt to form words, but the shock running through him kept them firmly in his throat. He didn’t know what to say or how to react when seeing you here. He never expected to have you come to his rescue, and honestly he wasn’t even aware that you knew how to shoot.  

A happy hum had left you as you went to work untying your Mandalorian companion, removing the restraining device that had made itself home onto his wrists. Afterwards, you had helped him stand, allowing him to put his weight onto you, while he winced from the wound on his side. 

“Careful now, don’t want to make that any worse than it already is.” You said, worry crossing your features at the sight of his injury. 

Din looked around, still shocked by the devastation brought on by you and a single rifle, “Did...Did you do all this on your own?”

“Of course?” You said, your face morphing to that of confusion, “Now come, let’s get out of here. Your son is waiting for you back at the ship and that wound needs to be looked at.” 

Helping him walk out of the building and out into the daylight, you guided him all the way back to the Razor Crest. When finally back at the ship, you had even helped him up the ramp, settling him on one of the crates in the hull before moving away to find some medical supplies. 

The hatch to the child’s cot was closed—hinting that the little one was taking his evening nap—which made the Mandalorian relieved to see. He didn’t want the child to see him in this state. The child didn’t need more things like this to weigh him down at such a young age. 

“Oh yeah!” You said suddenly, grabbing his attention, as you maneuvered his pulse rifle off your shoulder before holding it out for him to take, “I borrowed your pulse rifle, it's really nice! Probably one of the best I’ve ever used.”  

After your comment and return of his rifle, you went back to searching through his med supplies and medpacs to find the bacta patches. While you did so, the Mandalorian gently ran his fingers over the rifle in his hands, the shock of seeing your skill with it still bouncing around in his mind. The need to ask you about your handling of the pulse rifle crawled at his throat, but he resisted speaking at first, as he wasn’t sure how to word his questions without coming off as rude. 

He was honestly surprised to see the whole thing go down. He never knew that you were so handy with a gun when he had first hired you to work for him, and honestly assumed you couldn’t. At times you seemed too sweet to ever pick up a blaster of any sort, much less a full on pulse rifle. Clearly, he still had much to learn about his new partner.

“You know…” He trailed off when he finally spoke, a hint of wonder in his tone, as he looked up at you from the gun. “You never told me you could shoot.”

A smirk spread across your lips at his words, and you looked over at him with a medpac in hand, a shrug of your shoulders quickly following suit.

“You never asked.”

---

Tags:

@starrywatermelon​ @ah-callie @readsalot73 @karnita-mexicana

#the mandalorian #mandoctober #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din #din x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #gender neutral reader #mando #mandalorian #pulse rifle #canon typical violence #mentions of violence #mentions of blood #mentions of injury #star wars fanfic #the mandalorian fanfic #not beta read

[this-is-such-a-bad-decision]

TMA Epilogue X Critical Role Crossover (Good Cows Edition)

Want to write this fic, gonna make it a post instead because I will never make the time for it otherwise.  Spoilers up to the most recent episode for both shows. (TMA Finale and Ep 131 Critical Role.)

We at the Blooming Grove with the Clay family.

Been like two hours since the Mighty Nein went to stop an evil city, little tense but Clays know how to chill, sipping tea around their little table

Clarabelle comes bursting into the house, “TWO DUDES JUST APPEARED OUT OF THIN AIR COVERED IN SHINY BLACK STUFF also they’re bleeding”

Rest of the family comes stampeding out, indeed there are two bleeding humans on the lawn (Martin got hit by debris when the Panopticon collapsed, Jon has been stabbed, y’know) tangled up in tape

Cornelius and Calliope go make sure the Grove isn’t under attack while Constance gives the boys some healing, tries to ask what’s going on but no one speaks the same language (Jon is no longer connected to the Eye so no cheat codes)

JMart pass out from inter-dimensional jet-lag, Clays clean them up and put them to bed

Martin wakes up in the middle of the night while Cornelius is keeping watch (Clays are welcoming but these guys are strangers) and is like “ah, so the giant cow people weren’t a hallucination.”

Language barrier is still there but tea is universal; Cornelius makes some for Martin, ends up holding Martin through some tears as everything that’s happened catches up at once

Good thing the Clays know how to help people in mourning

Martin goes back to sleep, Jon and Martin wake up in the morning and get to be happy and cry about being alive and safe together

Soon as that part’s over thing’s get heavy cause MAG 200 was A LOT and it’s gonna be a bit before either of them are okay with how everything went down

The Clays are very kind and gentle and it only makes Jon feel worse

“Martin. This is the good cow world. We brought evil to the good cows.”

Tbh Jmart were more expecting parallel universes instead of this, but alright

Eventually they start exploring the Grove. It’s a little unnerving when they realize this place is a graveyard, even more unnerving when they realize this place and the Clays are clearly magical (since the only magic in their world is evil), and super unnerving when they realize this place is surrounded by an evil enchanted forest that the Clays won’t let them walk into alone

But no one tries to hurt them or eat them so they settle in and try to figure out where they are going to go from here

Corrin and Colton get back after a couple days, Constance introduces them to the newcomers and then tells Corrin everything about The Mighty Nein and the evil floating city

The next day Corrin prepares the cleric spell Tongues, pulls Jon and Martin aside and casts it on herself so they can have a conversation

Jon ends up confessing everything for the sake of warning them about the evil he’s unleashed on their world (Martin thinks he should hold back A LITTLE BIT for the sake of avoiding an angry mob but Jon gets into his story-telling flow)

Corrin: “Is one of the Fears a giant screaming city floating in the void?” Jon: “What”

Corrin is exasperated by this new wave of bad news, Jon is bemused to learn that his world’s baggage only takes 2nd place for Impending Eldritch Threats

Corrin tells Jon that they’re going to wait for her nephew and his friends to get home, they’ll probably have a better idea how to deal with this problem than she does, in the meantime she’ll see what guidance the Wildmother can offer

Cue Jon and Martin having a million questions on the cosmology of this world, Corrin casts Tongues on him so he can go bother the rest of her family while she goes to meditate.

A week or two passes with Jon and Martin processing their trauma, talking through their differences, and slowly learning more about the world. The revelation that there are non-evil gods is a nice one.

The world doesn’t end, The Mighty Nein return, Jon and Martin realize this is not a world solely made up of cow people

The Nein are VERY grumpy to learn that a new problem has popped up while they were gone, but they agree to take Jmart with them to speak with their various high-powered connections about this threat

The Mighty Nein is a BIG culture shock for Jon and Martin after a couple weeks of chilling with the Clays (not to say the Clays aren’t weird, but their weird is easier to ignore if you can’t speak the language, and I think they are better behaved around guests)

Caduceus is now in charge of Tongues the same way Jester is in charge of Sending

The Nein are varying amounts of sympathetic to what has happened to Jon and Martin considering they now have to deal with the consequences, but I think they generally settle on a similar reaction that they had to Caleb, which is that it’s not your fault if you were manipulated into it; Jon has a hard time accepting this.

The Mighty Nein makes the rounds (Cobalt Soul, Yussa, etc.) (yes, Yussa is fine, no, he’s not going to help with this problem, he’s going to nap for a million years) before getting back to Allura

(At this point various institutions have started to notice an increase in monster sightings and strange new cults popping up worshiping unfamiliar gods)

Allura is ALSO very exasperated to learn about new gods trying to assert themselves, ends up calling in her people

Yup, enter Vox Machina

I’m going to skip a bunch of stuff now because I’m getting tired of typing (also spoilers for the Vox Machina arc going forward)

But basically they do some magic bullshit, follow a similar road map as their solution to Vecna, and they use Jon’s voice (which webbed the Fears up to be dragged into this world in the first place) to pin down the Fears and throw them beyond the divine gate

The Fears proceed to get their asses kicked by Sarenrae and the Wildmother and the Stormlord and all the rest

Not so tough now are ya bitches

Web didn’t even consider that other worlds might have things strong enough to kill it

Got used to a world that didn’t have any gods of love and hope and now you don’t know how to handle it

Anyway, Jon and Martin settle into their new world, get to learn whatever dope D&D magic they want, and live happily ever after.

Feel free to write this if anyone is inspired, the only requirement is that you let me know when it’s posted cause I would love to read it.

#jonathan sims #critical role #the magnus archives #the magnus archives finale #jonmartin #tma finale #martin blackwood #constance clay #corrin clay #cornelius clay #caduceus clay #tma fic #i just love the idea of the web's hubris getting it killed #and I love the idea of jon and martin getting tlc from large cow people #they deserve it after everything they've been through #My writing #my stuff

[snarkandsarcasmftw]

tag games, ftw

I was tagged by both @rampagewriting and @heelsamizayn to answer this and it seems like a fun time and my brain’s being a bag of dicks rn, so whhhhy not... Here we go.

0) Name/Nickname? If ya wanna share it.

Ashley, AA, Snark - mostly on here. Oh and lil bit, but... family only.

1) If you could bring any two fictional characters (from books or film/tv) into the same world who would they be, what world would you put them in, and what would their relationship to each other be?

Uhhh... Uhhh... Okay, alright, hm... This is going to be an unconventional answer but.. I’d take Bucky and Cap and I’d drop them right into the middle of The Walking Dead. Hear me out.. They’re both military trained / enhanced superheroes and they can walk that line of having compassion and being totally ruthless if they must. I think it’d be neat. They’d be friends / psuedo brothers, of course.

2) If you could drop yourself into any fictional world from books or film/tv, which would it be?

Oh god, oh noooo.. Every part of the fifteen year old trapped within my old woman body is screaming at me to answer Harry Potter -cos magic.. But.. I’m going with The Walking Dead. Just for the simple fact that I could smack both Lori and Dale Horvath in the back of the fuckin head.

Alternately.. I’d really wanna hunt vampires with Edgar and Allen Frog, and the eighties were my shit, so.. That too.

3) What’s your spirit animal?

A cat or a raccoon. I have under eye circles, stay up late, eat only junk and I’ll bite if you take my food plus kinda chonky ( raccoon) and I like to take naps, I’m... adamant about cleaning / grooming plus, I like to sit around and give people side eye when they’re doing dumb shit. ( cat.)

4) What is the most unpopular opinion you hold?

NO. NOPE. NOT ANSWERING. ISSA TRAP.

Okay, since I obviously have to put something here, I’ll say it. And I’ll start with wrestling:

Seth Rollins is vastly overrated and I don’t get the whole.. Attraction to him. And the same goes for Cody Rhodes. Also, is it just me or are his fucking intros too long? Idk, maybe that’s me and my lack of patience. If you like either of these, sorry, continue to do you, but.. I’m not a fan and I honestly don’t particularly care about either and this is my own personal opinion. I’m allowed to have one. I’m not saying bad shit about either guy here, if you take it that way, it’s your own damn problem? I’m not telling you not to like them. I’m simply saying I do not.

As far as media goes : Fifty Shades of Gray is fucking dumb. I mean.. 10 page contract.. to get what has to be mediocre dick, at best? And it’s not even written with any regards to true BDSM concepts for the most part? Nah. I’ll pass. 

And now, for one about our current situation: I think the idiots who hoarded TP at the beginning of this should be allowed to return things.. Provided it’s unopened, they have a receipt, and they don’t see a fucking dime of the money they spent and that the money from the returns goes to masks / other methods of protection for front line workers or straight into the unemployment packages and the stimulus thing. Like literally, the hoarder gets nothing, people who need TP / sanitizer / etc get UNOPENED NEW PRODUCTS and the front line workers get the proceeds of the voided returns. We all win here. (I realize this probably cannot happen, but. It’s one way to kind of... help this current shit show we’re all trapped in.) 

5) How do you like to style your hair most often?

Uhh.. Down. I’m too goddamn lazy to be bothered.

6) I always love this overdone question - you’re allowed three books on a desert island, what do you bring? (Note: Survival Guides don’t count).

The Shining, The Dark Towers series - Stephen King, The Client - John Grisham and The Outsiders - S.E Hinton

7) Something new you’ve learned in quarantine/lockdown/corona times?

That no matter how hard I try, I cannot apply false lashes. That more than two noisy things going in the background is TOO MUCH. Oh and I’m pretty damn good at baking when I bother to try / don’t toss out the directions.

8) Favorite alcohol? (Or non-alcoholic beverage if you don’t drink!)

Haven’t drank in... a while-ish. But my favorite thing to drink when I do is vodka or tequila. Occasionally White Claw ( i know, i know.). Favorite non-alcoholic beverage is water lately.

9) Music you can’t stand? Music you love?

I’m gonna get torn the fuck apart for this but yolo.. I can’t get into K-Pop. I’ve tried. It’s just.. It’s up there with new pop for me. Older boy bands / pop stars? Not a problem. I just don’t like a lot of pop music and I can’t get into K-pop. If you like it, awesome. It’s just not for me personally. Beyond that? I love literally any other kind of music. I have a veeeery varied eclectic listening preference but my all time favorite? 80′s glam / pop or country.

10) Have a favorite herb?

FIRST OF ALL.. GARLIC.. yeah, it’s not a herb buuuut... yeah.. Anyway, for actual herbs..Basil, Rosemary and Sage.. Oh and cilantro. Cilantro will save your ass in a pinch. 

11) What kinds of cups/glasses/bottles do you prefer to drink out of?

My big tol cold cup. Or.. my stemless plastic wine glasses, of which I have apparently lost.

12) Preferred mode of communication: texts, phone calls, emails, letters?

Text or email. I’m not... fond of making calls, but I will if I have to. I prefer texts or email. Oh, I do enjoy writing letters now and then.

13) What is your favorite weather?

Not too hot, not too cold. Not too sunny but not overcast and gray either. A light breeze. NO POLLEN.

14) What kind of lighting do you like?

Softer lights, for the aesthetic.. Overhead lighting, so my blind ass can... yannow... see. If I had my way, I’d have candles and string lights every where though.

15) What is the best thing you cook?

Honestly, I feel like it’s my chili or my stew. Alternately, husband seems to ask for chicken / bacon / ranch pasta casserole a lot, so... Idk.. I guess pretty much anything (except fucking hamburger helper, i can NEVER get this shit right, despite directions, sacrifices to the culinary gods and pleas/promises of my first born. It always turns out icky so I never cook it.) 

16)  Do you have a favorite font to write in?

Handwriting or typewriter fonts for the most part. Roboto when I’m writing / editing my own fics and such.

17) What is something you’ve always wanted to write in a fic, but you’ve been too afraid to? Or, what is something that you were afraid to write, but then you did and it ended awesome?

Honestly, I’m scared to death to write smut. Which is why I’ve been trying to write more of it lately. I won’t say it’s going awesome ( I’m pretty sure some of you sit and read it when I post and are like what the fuck... this isn’t realistic and this is so bad.) but it’s going.

I’ve wanted to dip my toes into writing for more obscure fandoms too. Like ones that I personally enjoy. As far as something I’ve always wanted to write? Horror. But I’m scared to death I’d fuck it up.

18) If you were in your favorite fantasy world, what would your weapon of choice be?

A sword or a knife. Machete, maybe?

19) Is there a commonly used expression/saying that you can’t stand?

While I agree with the answers J and K put to this “It’s in God’s hands, etc” - sometimes things are GOD AWFUL. The last thing I want to hear is what the reason God had for doing it is. So don’t tell me. 

Triggered is a useful term.. if it’s used right. And I’m starting to realize that 95 percent of people DO NOT know the proper use. They think that being triggered =‘s a reason to bitch and tear someone apart over some miniature thing they’ve done. So now, when I hear it being misused, it fucking annoys me.

20) What is something that you would like people to know about you?

I’m a grumpy ball of rage. I’m petty as fuck and saltier than all the oceans combined in the right circumstances. But.. I can be a nice person and I love getting to know people and helping people or talking to them. Even if it’s hard for me to start it off bc I’m fucking awkward as fuck also - hence the reason it takes a while for me to actually... attempt... conversing with new people both IRL and on here.

I’m gonna leave this open to anyone who wants to do it bc Idk who has or hasn’t already and I don’t want to annoy people. 

This was a blast!