#fat tail thursday~! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unscrupulousartist · 8 months

Text

hellerby fic, part 4/10

28 March 1929

By far, his favourite part of being back at the Lackadaisy was the ability to work in the main office—Atlas’ office—again. Nothing had truly changed, beyond a gathering of clutter, the disgraceful state of the books, and a little updating of colour. At some point, Mitzy had changed the curtains and chairs, but she was considerate enough to leave Mordecai’s little desk exactly as it had been.

It was there Mitzi found him holed up, long past the popular hours of the cafe but only just breaking into the Lackadaisy’s first act.

“Here you are, sugar,” Mitzi tutted at him as she meandered across the room to the main desk. “You planning on hiding up here all night?”

“You underestimate the work required to bring all this—” he picked up the corner of a page, pulling and letting it flutter back into place. “—into some semblance of order.”

“That’s all fine and good, sweetheart, but have you forgotten the date?”

He had. Frowning, he checked the calendar and worked out where he was in the complicated itinerary. “Ah—of course.”

“You gonna come celebrate?” Mitzi asked. She leaned behind the main desk to open a cupboard, and retrieved a large album.

“I suppose I must,” he sighed, rubbing his nose.

“That’s the spirit,” Mitzi smiled at him. Album under her arm, she helped him straighten his tie and vetoed his choice of jacket. They argued for a couple minutes, but in the end she stole the article of clothing and threw it out the window.

“That was hardly necessary,” he glared at her.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” she demurred. Taking him by the arm, she tugged him towards the stairs. “Is it so much to ask for you to relax, even just one night out of the year?”

“I prefer to save my celebrations for when they are earned,” said Mordecai. “Being born does not fit that bill.”

“Birthdays aren’t about earning things, sugar,” Mitzi tutted. “It’s about being celebrated.”

“I can hardly wait,” he drawled.

Together they navigated the hidden entrance of the Lackadaisy Speakeasy, exchanging small pleasantries with a shuddering Horatio. The club itself was quiet for a Thursday—after sorting their unfortunate business with the Marigold Hotel the Lackadaisy hadn’t reached the same level of patronage as its glory days, but that didn’t explain the low lighting or the calm music coming from the stage. Mitzi led him to a cluster of plush chairs around a low table, where Ivy sat with Viktor and some of the band.

“Here he is,” Mitzi pushed him at an empty seat. “The Birthday Boy.”

Squealing, Ivy leaned forward to pour a measure of rum into a tumbler. “It’s been forever since we sat down for your birthday, Mordecai.”

“Yes, well, let's get this over with.” he sighed, but took a moment to appreciate the near symmetry of the seating plan. Until Mitzi sat on the arm of Zib’s chair, offsetting the balance.

Still standing, he heard a familiar voice call out from the backrooms. It sent a shiver down his spine, tail quivering. “We’ve returned, with merry bounty!”

“Thou speak’st alright,” Rocky exposited as he toed out of his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt. “I am that merry wanderer of the night!”

“Stop it,” Mordecai said around a rare smile. Listing, he leaned against the car to untie his lonely left shoe. “Before I change my mind.”

“I jest to Oberon,” Rocky gestured to him, hands faltering and voice lowering in performance. “—and make him smile, when I—a fat and bean-fed horse—” He stopped abruptly, laughing, when Mordecai tossed the shoe at him. Rocky’s arms waved in defense, swatting the offending weapon away. “—beguile! Neighing in likeness of a filly foal! And sometimes—” he fell back half a step, and shrugged out of his shirt. He continued in a calmer tone, brows quirking with suggestion. “Sometimes lurk I in a gossip’s bowl, in very likeness of a roasted crab—”

He found he was still in possession of Rocky’s flask, and fumbled with the cap. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you.” He brought the drink to his lips.

“Rocky, sweetheart!” Mitzi called. “I told you, you didn’t need to get anything.”

Taking a deep breath, Mordecai lowered himself into his prescribed seat and reached for his tumbler of rum. He took a sip and kept it close.

“Yes!” Rocky called, coming closer. Him and Freckle carried a case between them, which they brought to the table. “But you also said—” he let his side of the case drop with a thunk, leaving Freckle to scramble with the other end. “—that tonight was a special celebration! Only, where are the frollickers?” Frowning, Rocky looked around the rest of the sleepy bar, where only a few dozen folk laughed and swayed alongside piano music. “I’m starting to think you’re teasing me, Ms M.”

Mordecai rubbed at a sudden twinge at his temple.

“Perhaps I’ve cast you wrong,” Rocky tilted his head. “Or picked the wrong group of players to liken you with. But, though I love a tragedy, the scenes I require—”

“Drink your elixir—” Mordecai lobbed the still-open flask. A splash of liquid caught ambient light, and Rocky jumped to catch it. “—and come here.”

“I suppose we can ad lib—”

“Rocky!” Ivy kicked at his shins, then pulled on Freckle’s sleeve.

“It’s Mordecai’s birthday, sugar,” Mitzi explained.

“Birthday?” Rocky blinked, and turned to look at Mordecai.

“We’re gonna play some poker and laugh about old times,” Mitzi patted the album she still carried. “If you think you can sit still, you’re welcome to join us. Otherwise, it might be better if you hopped up on stage to keep the other guests entertained.”

Rocky’s tail twitched, low and frantic by his ankles, as excitement seemed to roll off of him. His hands came up, but he kept himself composed. “The stillness might be a problem.”

“Come on, Rocky,” Freckle pulled on Rocky’s elbow; and was in turn tugged by Ivy. The two cousins piled around the same chair as the young lady, Freckle in her lap and Rocky at her feet.

Mordecai’s ears pressed back, and he sipped his rum.

“Who’s dealing?” Zib asked, and Sy produced a deck of cards.

“Pictures first!” Ivy demanded. “Before you get too drunk to tell the stories.”

“I don’t think we’re in any danger of that,” Mitzi snickered. “Rocky, sweetheart, move this crate.”

“Of course, Ms M,” Rocky laughed, and tugged on the case. When it barely moved, Freckle leaned to hook the end and hauled it right into his cousin’s lap. “Oof! Here we are!” the musician pried off the lid. “Perhaps we should lighten this load…”

Mitzi spread the album on the table, and Ivy shifted to get a better view. “What did you bring us, sugar?” Mitzi asked.

“Whiskey and Spirits,” Rocky sang. One by one, he removed the bottles and began placing them in a random pattern on the floor. It took Mordecai a moment to recognize a sort of wavy starburst in the line of lids, and another moment to realize he was staring.

Meanwhile, Mitzi had already flipped through the first couple of pages of the album, pointing out early photos and newspaper clippings from his years shadowing Atlas, while Sy dealt the first hand.

“Look at those shirt sleeves,” Zib snickered into Mitzi’s side.

“From when he dressed in Atlas’ hand-me-downs,” Mitzi teased, fluttering her lashes at Mordecai.

“I’ve grown up since then,” he argued, flat.

“You wear your laurels well, sweetheart,” Mitzi winked at him and turned the page.

He rolled his eyes.

“What’s that!” Ivy pointed.

“Hm?” Mitzi perked, then laughed as she saw what had caught Ivy’s attention. “Oh, that was Rocky’s first night performing—” Mordecai tensed, and Rocky looked up from the now-empty crate. “—I’m pretty sure Atlas had already taken you home.”

“Where’d your shoe go!?” Ivy laughed, looking at Mordecai with a grin.

Frowning, he sat up to take a better look, then felt a flush wash over his face.

“What did you say this was again?” Mordecai asked, closing one eye to try and peer into the flask. He thought he felt something plucking at his foot, but a floaty sense of wonder kept him distracted.

“A mushroom tea, mulled with spirits,” said Rocky. "Would you like some more?"

The photo showed himself and Rocky, huddled together beneath one of the Lackadaisy’s taller tables. Mordecai had slumped against the table post, both his feet in Rocky’s lap—indeed, one shoe already missing—and a flask clutched with both hands. Together they peered up at the camera flash, four eyes nearly black with dilation.

“Gone,” Mordecai answered—referring to the missing shoe. “I never found it.”

“Rocky hid it in the piano,” Zib explained.

“What?” Mordecai blinked at him.

"It might still be in the green room," Mitzi added.

“Strange,” Rocky hummed. “I’d convinced myself that was a dream.”

Ivy planted a hand on Rocky’s head, forcing him to duck as she leaned closer to the album. “How come no one told me about this?” She pouted at Mitzi and Viktor.

“There was nothing to tell,” Mordecai snipped.

“He just doesn’t wanna remember puking in his favourite ficus,” Mitzi joked.

“Or valk of shame, next day,” Viktor added.

“It wasn’t a walk of shame,” Mordecai glared at him. “I simply… wanted to enjoy the sunrise, and got a little lost.”

Freckle looked between the active participants of the conversation as Ivy vibrated beside him. “I think I remember that!” she shouted.

“I doubt it,” Mordecai lied.

“No, Miss Mitzi brought me ‘round to Viktor's, ‘cause she knew if you called anyone you’d call him—”

“Which he did," Mitzi nodded.

"—and we picked you up, uh—"

"Halfvay to the Missouri," Viktor supplied.

Ivy snapped her fingers. "Yes! Then we—"

"Went to the country club for brunch, yes," Mordecai glared at her, then Mitzi. "Are we through with this portion of the celebrations? I could be getting work done."

"Sorry, Sourpuss," Zib gathered his cards—prompting the rest of the party to do the same—and sat back in his chair. "Sometimes it's nice to remember you as something other than a Murderous Psychopath."

"I'm also an accountant," said Mordecai.

Mitzi snorted.

"As I said," Zib shrugged. "A Psychopath."

"What about you, Rocky?" Ivy interrupted, ruffling the fur between Rocky’s ears. "Got anything to say about stealing Mordecai's shoe?"

"Ah?" His voice pitched a little too high, and he glanced at Mordecai before twisting to look up at Ivy. "I recall it was something of a joke—but I must confess to misremembering."

"A joke?" Ivy frowned at him.

Zib and Mitzi both broke into snickers.

"Yes," Rocky scratched the back of his head and inched away from Ivy. "I think—it was, eventually, explained to me that I was the instrument of the joke," he snuck a peek at Mitzi, then shrugged and pulled a familiar flask from his jacket. "Something about Ol' Serious Face never letting loose?"

"We told him he wasn't officially in the band until he drank our Mordecai under the table," Mitzi elaborated. "And it was devilishly fun to be taken so literally."

"Oi—" Zib snapped his fingers at Rocky and pointed at his flask. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Perhaps," Rocky took a sip. "What do you think it is?"

"Your infamous tea?"

"It is."

"Gimme, gimme—" Zib made grabby hands, and Rocky closed the flask before tossing it to him. His aim was off, and it bounced in Mitzi's lap.

"Tea?" Ivy asked.

Flinching, Freckle wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "It's, uh—"

"An Elixir to see Other Worlds," Rocky exposed, spreading his arms wide. "Hark! And we can go anon; to see the wings of Oberon."

"Can I try?" Ivy asked.

Viktor and Mordecai both shouted, "no!"

Rocky snickered and bit his lip.

"It ain't so bad," Zib defended, taking a sip.

Mitzi took the flask next. "Dipping a little toe in can be fun."

"Just don't drink as much as Rocky," Freckle agreed.

It was Ivy’s turn to make grabby hands. The flask was passed around the circle, skipping Viktor and coming back again to Rocky. The musician laughed and took another glug, then grinned at Mordecai. "How now, spirit? Wither wander you?"

Brows drawing together, Mordecai frowned. "What?"

Snickering, Rocky held up the infamous tea, within arms reach. "How serious is Ol' Serious Face today? Or would you be tempted to imbibe?"

"No—" Mordecai's nose twitched, and he caught an earthy fragrance from the flask.

Time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl as he tilted a little too far and slipped from the seat. His feet, not properly braced, pushed on the base of the chair, furthering his upset. His arms, asymmetrical, pinwheeled until he landed in Rocky’s lap.

The musician laughed.

"Ow," Mordecai deadpanned. His knee stung, but the rest of him felt fine.

"You were saying?"

"About what?"

"About the elixir not working."

"It's not working," he repeated, pushing against Rocky’s chest to right himself. Overhead, the Lackadaisy's lights seemed a little extra sparkly, and he swayed to his own seat on the ground. "That was a coincidence."

"Silly me," Rocky took another swig.

Then Mordecai stole the flask, and held it under his nose to sniff.

"—I'd rather not," Mordecai continued. "Someone has to retain control of their senses."

"That's what Viktor's for," Ivy giggled.

"Are we playing?" Mordecai deflected, taking his first proper note of his cards.

There was some semblance of fanfare for most of a dozen rounds, each player betting with nickels and dimes, before the revelers started to fade. Ivy dropped out first, losing attention to instead pull the old album into her lap to leaf through. This also incapacitated Freckle, who curled into her side and closed his eyes to nod along and mumble into her ear. Then Sy slipped onto the ground to idly twitch while Mitzi and Zib stumbled to the dance floor.

Finally, Viktor threw down his cards—three aces—and stood up. "Time to take children home."

"Good luck," said Mordecai. He folded against the side of his chair to watch as Viktor edged around the table, stepped over Sy, and loomed over Ivy and Freckle.

"Up," he took them each by an arm and dragged them upright.

"Hey!" Ivy squeaked, the album falling from her lap.

Freckle blinked and smiled at Viktor. "You're nice."

"Very kind," Viktor drawled. He steered them both away, toward the garage, several feet before he had to scoop a faltering Freckle. Ivy managed on her own.

Turned away to observe the spectacle, Mordecai felt, rather than saw, a figure creep up to the edge of his chair. Sighing, he twirled the remnants of ice in his glass before shifting. And sure enough, Rocky peered, starry eyed, over the edge of the arm rest.

A glance showed no one else paying particular attention. "What is it?" Mordecai asked.

"You aren't feeling murderous, are you?" Asked Rocky. His fingers drummed across the edge of the furniture, claws catching. "It's hard to tell."

Mordecai's brow twitched. "And if I were?"

"Then I'd ask who it was you felt like murdering," said Rocky. His tail twitched, wavering back and forth.

Sighing, Mordecai found he hadn't the energy to be much more than tired. "I'm not feeling murderous."

"Oh good," Rocky grinned and bit his lip, then propped his chin on the armrest. "I feared I'd upset Oberon, by bringing up his wayward con."

"No riddles, please," Mordecai clicked his tongue. Then he took a closer look across Rocky’s face—he'd eventually tell himself it was due to the musician's physical proximity, and nothing else—to take in his, admittedly, pleasing features. The only real drawback was the one knick in his left ear, the rest was nearly symmetrical. Including a faint scar, just wide enough to be hinted at beneath Rocky’s fur; a silver straight line down the center of his brow. Without meaning to, Mordecai brought a finger up to trace it.

Rocky tensed, dilated eyes crossing to try and follow the movement.

"No one told me how you got this," said Mordecai. He had some memory of the stitches, and of the weeks it took the wound to settle. But—

"Ah, well, no one likes the stories from when you were with the Marigold," Rocky surmised with a small shrug. Though his tail movements changed—to long, steady swishes—he seemed determined to stay still beneath the ministrations. His ears flattened to the side, his eyes squinting.

Huddled together in the back seat of the borrowed car, Rocky shuddered as Mordecai pet the length of his spine. "Ah—" he huffed, and nestled close to Mordecai's chest. Then he licked at Mordecai's neck, teeth tugging at the spots where the fur transitioned from black to white.

Mordecai pulled away.

Shoulders slumping, Rocky blinked up at him.

Mordecai cleared his throat and looked around, but no one noticed their exchange. "Seems the festivities are over, I should get back to work."

"Right," Rocky laughed, but the sound seemed strangled. "Well, Happy Birthday, Mr Serious Face."

Eyes half lidded, Mordecai indulged in one more motion and brought a hand to rake his claws properly through Rocky’s fur. The musician purred as Mordecai scratched around one ear, then ruffled the fur, much like Ivy had, before standing. Rocky listed in place, falling back to sit on the floor and stare up at Mordecai.

"Thank you, Mr Rickaby," Mordecai said formally. He chose to busy himself with straightening his vest, his glasses, his tie, anything other than absorb whatever expression Rocky maintained. "Goodnight." And he left.

He was almost halfway across the room, somewhat away from the other patrons who were preoccupied mostly with the bar and dance floor, before Rocky called a reply. "Never harm! Nor spell! Nor charm!" Singing, his voice carried, and Mordecai tensed but kept moving. "Come our lovely lady nigh! So, goodnight, with lullaby!"

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy fan comic #lackadaisy fanfiction #lackadaisy fanart #fanfiction #i haven't picked a title #the fic has been written but i'm still illustrating it #posting all the parts here before i upload to ao3 later #hellerby #mordecai x rocky #mordecai heller #rocky rickaby #*slaps fic* this baby can fit so many headcanons #like Rocky quotes media when he doesn't know what to say #mordecai is a one-drink person #inappropriate use of shakespeare #nonlinear #flashbacks

13 notes · View notes

multiicolor · 2 months

Text

also happy fat tail thursday to charle specifically

#` ooc || move bitch im 𝙂𝘼𝙔 `#` art || crayon scribbles `#` 🜏 someday we'll find our rainbow connection || charlemagne. `#` 🜏 mirror || charlemagne. `#( in this house we love and respect fat tails )

4 notes · View notes

sleepywriter84 · 2 years

Text

From the Beginning

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Chapter 1: The Start of it All

Word Count: 1558

Authors Note: This is the first chapter of a project I intend to work on. Basically, this fanfic will follow the plot and storyline of The Walking Dead. The dialogue may not be completely accurate when compared to the show, but I do intend to steer the fic in the same direction the show takes. Some details may be switched. This first chapter is in the first person, but I will most likely write the rest of the story in the third person (I don’t like writing in the first person lmao but I didn’t realize that till I finished the whole chapter).

Quiet. It was never this quiet on a Thursday night. Scrubbing down the counters for the tenth time that night, I looked around the empty establishment. Thursday nights were usually pretty steady, with at least one order being made every two to three hours, but tonight not a single person has come into the parlor or called to place an order. It was oddly eerie.

Looking to my right, I catch the eye of one of my coworkers sitting on top of the counter where the cash register is. Rolling my eyes, I continue to scrub the clean tables that littered the parlor.

“Who are you rolling your eyes at toots?” the coworker jokes, kicking his feet against the wood.

“Nothing, just you sitting there, not working.”

“Not working. What’s there to work on? You’ve been scrubbin the same goddamn platforms for the past 6 hours, there ain’t nothing to do. Doesn’t look like we have a line out there does it?”

“Doesn’t mean you can be lazy Jamie” I jab, earning a playful scoff from the man.

“You know, she’s right. Just sitting there. You gonna let the kid show you up, a grown ass man” the manager speaks up, walking out of the backroom.

“Oh don’t give me that shit, we all know you’ve been taking a fat nap in your office back there. It’s not my fault that I got the damn graveyard shift, Brandon” Jamie remarks, kicking the wood of the counter he was sitting on a bit harder.

“Yeah, yeah. Just be glad you’re not busting your tail, and I ain’t getting on your ass. At least I got one hard worker, the place definitely needed the deep cleaning.”

Rolling up my sleeves, I walk over to the two men who are talking, placing the rag next to Jamie, and leaning against the register.

“I wonder why it’s so quiet though? It doesn’t make sense for a Thursday night, it really don’t” I remark, picking at the seams of my long sleeved shirt.

“I don’t know. I just know that Glenn and Mark had to go home, and I’m just happy they did. We definitely don’t have the business for that much labor, though I probably should have sent you home instead of Glenn. Who knows how much cleaning we could have gotten done then” Brandon nods towards Jamie.

“I just want something to do, last hour I cleaned everything, even the ovens, and we all know that those things don’t mix with me well.”

“Well you’d be in luck. I didn’t come out here to just pick on Jamie here, we finally got an order. Scheduled for 8 tonight, so in an hour or so. It’s Mr.Lich, his usual order for Thursday nights. Which one of ya wants to run it?”

“I can, would be nice to go outside, see why it's so dead around here” I volunteer, stretching.

“Kay, its settled then. Leave no later than 7:50, that way the old man is happy for some early pizza” Brandon states, waving us off and walking back to his office.

The hour goes by slowly, dragging on. I end up scrubbing everything down three more times, and then one more after Jamie made the pizza. Getting my bag, I slot the pizza into it, waving Jamie off and yelling a quick goodbye to Brandon.

Stepping outside, I look around. Everything was empty. Not a single person outside. It was strange. The Georgia sun was just starting to set and the shadows cast down on the streets looked so strange. Walking down the road, all I could hear was my footsteps. However, as I got closer to the road that led out of the tiny shopping plaza, the sudden blaring of horns caught my attention. Turning the corner, I’m surprised with what I saw.

A whole line of cars stretching from all the way down the street to wherever it ended up ahead was blockading traffic. Not a single person was moving, yet it seemed that everyone wanted to get out. Honk after honk echoed through the street. Confused, I look around seeing if I can figure out why everyone was leaving. However, there was nobody on the street, and all the nearby businesses had signs up that said “Sorry We’re Closed”.

Picking up my pace, I walk further down the street towards my destination, my grip on the pizza tightening. I glanced to my side at the backup traffic, and watched as people honked their cars in what looked like panic.

What the hell was going on.

If an emergency occurred shouldn’t there be a message on my phone saying so. The radio in the pizza parlor was broken, so if it was broadcast none of us would know. But the news would have had to reach us eventually. The pizza parlor was isolated a bit from the public, not being on a busy street, and being in a more isolated shopping center that most people would have to walk to reach. But surely, if something was wrong, one of us in that building would know.

Starting to sprint, I decide to just get to my location and head back as fast as I can. Bring it up to Brandon and Jamie, and ask if they knew anything about it. I had left my phone back at the parlor, so I couldn’t check it.

Slowing down, I take in the beaten down building, and take a deep breath before walking up the creaky metal steps. The apartment building was sort of in the style of a motel, it probably was one before the city decided it needed more permanent housing.

Walking up to the second floor, I head to room 152. Mr. Lich always ordered pizza on Thursday night, set to be delivered at 8 pm. However, if you got there at least 5 minutes early, the tip you got was pretty wealthy. He was a small old man, who didn’t really speak much and had a big bald spot in the center of his scalp. He always had his door locked and windows drawn tight, he wasn’t much of a people person.

So, when I arrived at his door and saw it cracked open and his windows shattered, I froze. I didn’t know what to do. Calling out, I wait for an answer. He didn’t reply.

“Mr. Lich?” I whisper, leaning towards the door, hoping this all was a fluke.

“Mr. Lich?” I tried again, my knuckles going white with how tight I was gripping the pizza box in my hands.

I didn’t know what to do. With the panic going on out on the streets, and with the state of Mr. Lich’s apartment, every possible thing that could be going wrong right now ran through my head.

What if someone got out of the prison a couple miles away. What if a whole bunch of them got out. What if someone really bad was going around murdering people. What if that someone was back at my apartment building.

With that thought my breath hitched. At home was my mom. At home were my two younger siblings, who had just turned four a couple weeks ago. If whatever caused this panic, if whatever it was was related to the broken in apartment I currently stood outside of, what if it had gone towards my home. Looking behind me, I find the faint outline of the woods surrounding the town. My house was over there, my family could be in danger.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think right. All I knew was something bad was happening, and that I needed to get home. I didn’t even realize that I had dropped the pizza, but it fell from my shaky hands with a slight thud.

Carefully stepping forward, I placed my hands on the apartment door. Slowly, I began to nudge it open. Before I ran home, I had to make sure Mr. Lich was okay. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding. Maybe nothing bad was happening, and this was just some whole planned scheme. Maybe it all wasn’t real.

The scraping of the door on the tan hardwood floors distracts me from my thoughts, and I stand right at the entrance. The door was pushed open now, if I were to look up, just a bit, I would be able to see into Mr. Lich’s apartment. Slowly, I move my head up just a bit, to peer into the darkness.

It was empty, at first. There wasn’t any sign of life, until I moved my gaze over to the broken window. Right underneath the shattered glass, illuminated perfectly by the falling sun, was Mr. Lich, except he wasn’t alone.

On top of the old man, was another person, at least that’s what it looked like. They were sat beside Mr. Lich, their head bowed towards his chest. Taking a step into the room, I call out. Mr. Lich was old, he had health problems. Maybe he collapsed, broke the window on his way down and someone broke through his door to help him. Hopefully that was it. But as I reach a hand out to the two people, asking them what's wrong, the person on top of Mr. Lich picks his head up. And that's when I notice the blood.

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #slowburn

29 notes · View notes

moxxie-joestar-1950 · 5 months

Text

hello my patriotism, communism & joestarism!

welcome to my army & marine corp! My name's Joseph "Moxxie" Joestar! & I'm the 6 stars general of Joseph Joestar army & my own marine corps! We're read to terrorist attack at fascismo/fascist (Italian pro-fascist), Nazism (Nazi Germany) & nazbolism (nazbol) for the America, CCCP, Great Britain Empire, Australia, Japanese Empire, Italian Empire (anti-fascist), Chinese Empire, French Empire & more!

Ask: open

Message: open

Roleplay/RP: open

Mod-chaos: wait till caine to join me at mod-chaos

Time on Tumblr

SUNDAY: open every day

MONDAY: close till after school

TUESDAY: close till 4:00 PM

WEDNESDAY: close till 4:00 PM

THURSDAY: close till 4:00 PM

FRIDAY: close till 4:00 PM

SATURDAY: open every day

HOLIDAY BREAK: open every day

SEASON BREAK: open every day

⚠ RULES ON MY ACCOUNT/BLOG ⚠

1: no racism (vortex hellhound, koichi Zenigata, whisper the wolf, Muhammad Avdol, Usopp & pucci will absolutely kill you with guns & weapons IF you said it in racial slurs like the N-word B/C they're black), fascism/fascismo, terrorism Arab (afghanistan, Taliban, Iraq & Islamic state), slave (Confederate States of America), KKK (Ku Klux Klan), Nazism (Nazi Germany), national socialist (Nazi party), nazbolism (nazbol Russia) & more

2: Only use Hazbin Hotel, helluva boss, lackadaisy, the amazing digital circus (TADC), SMG4, GG&C (guns, gore & cannoli), sonic the hedgehog (STH), five night's at freedy's female character (FNAF), Friday night funkin female character (FNF), murder drones female character (MD) & undertale female character (UT)

3: post of the 7th of deadly sinners still posting every day that what sinners you are (pride the leader of sins, greed the money maker, lust the lesbian vore, envy the copyrights/copycat, gluttony the starvation to eat food of queen bee-lzebub's town/city, wrath the anger/furious of terrorism/terrorist & sloth the laziness of worker)

4: vore art creator will draw/make ALL female character of FNAF, FNF, hazbin hotel, helluva boss, STH, TTG, TH & MD vore (stomach tighter, tight fits, face imprint, arm imprint, leg imprint, hand imprint, feet imprint, entrapment, butt entrapment, diaper entrapment, diaper vore, earring vore, plant vore, animal vore, soft vore (non-digest/no digestion), thick neck, tight bulge, neck bulge, living fat, body part vore, drink vore/straw vore, heart vore, vines, sneak vore, inventory vore (like TV, computer & more) elastic, elastic vore, tail vore, stomach sound, mumbling sound, pipe vore, suit vore & vacuum vore)

4: DO NOT use Farcry 5, lackadaisy, JJBA & TADC on vore or you'll banned from my account

5: all female character of FNAF, FNF, hazbin hotel, helluva boss, STH, teen titans go! (TTG), teen titans (TT) & murder drones (MD) will always wear the Stolas outfit, Stolas father outfit, raven outfit & latex rubber superhero suit (Latex rubber dress with skirt & tops (choose one)

+ Latex rubber gloves (choose one of type & size)

+ Latex rubber boots (choose one of type & size)

+ Latex rubber longest capes (pick any color on outside & inside)

+ Latex rubber ski mask with zippers on eye holes & no mouth holes (IF you wanted) + shapes icon with their name (choose one of shapes icon) or head icon = Latex rubber superhero suit) at October-8 (lesbian day) & August-8 (vore day)

9: draw a Californian territory military from my rule 10 IF you good at draw

10 all Hazbin Hotel, helluva boss, lackadaisy, the amazing digital circus (TADC), SMG4, GG&C, Farcry 5, STH & five night's at freedy's wears a suits, vests, tie, hat & use the guns & cars/vehicle of 1920's, 30's 50's & 60's (uniform of military, police & Capone coming soon)

11: anonymous shall not aloud on ask box forever

Good luck out there & follow my rules! Also follow them on my favorite ask bloggers!

@ask-niffty

@ask-charlie-morningstar

@askvaggie

@ask-the-radio-demon

@ask-caine-blog

@rodeoblitz

@squirrelboi

@alainthesquirrl

@verosika-maydays

@stolas-star-prince

@ashleynicholsart

@succu4life

@fizzy-pop-rocket

@drugs-and-dynamite

@bigdckenergyrp

@rodeoblitz

@requiemofaclown

@farfetchedshow

@milldred-knowlastname

@hellsmayflower

@queen-bee-of-parties

@byabitcrazy

Are you a joestarism? Or a sinners of the 7th of heavenly sinners?

4 notes · View notes

brucegreatwhitesharkjaws · 2 years

Text

Remember all the brave souls that lost that were serving USS Indianapolis when she sank after being struck by a torpedo from a Japanese submarine. On July 30, 1945.

Quint’s speech of the sinking of the USS Indianapolis and the shark attacks that follow the sinking.

Didn’t see the first shark for about a half-hour. Tiger. 13-footer. You know how you know that in the water, Chief? You can tell by lookin’ from the dorsal to the tail. What we didn’t know, was that our bomb mission was so secret, no distress signal had been sent. They didn’t even list us overdue for a week. Very first light, Chief, sharks come cruisin’ by, so we formed ourselves into tight groups. It was sorta like you see in the calendars, you know the infantry squares in the old calendars like the Battle of Waterloo and the idea was the shark come to the nearest man, that man he starts poundin’ and hollerin’ and sometimes that shark he go away. But sometimes he wouldn’t go away.

Sometimes that shark looks right at ya. Right into your eyes. And the thing about a shark is he’s got lifeless eyes. Black eyes. Like a doll’s eyes. When he comes at ya, he doesn’t even seem to be livin'. ’Til he bites ya, and those black eyes roll over white and then, ah then you hear that terrible high-pitched screamin’. The ocean turns red, and despite all your poundin’ and your hollerin’ those sharks come in and, they rip you to pieces.

You know by the end of that first dawn, lost a hundred men. I don’t know how many sharks there were, maybe a thousand. I do know how many men, they averaged six an hour. Thursday mornin’, Chief, I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player. Bo'son’s mate. I thought he was asleep. I reached over to wake him up. He bobbed up, down in the water, he was like a kinda top. Upended. Well, he’d been bitten in half below the waist.

At noon on the fifth day, a Lockheed Ventura swung in low and he spotted us, a young pilot, lot younger than Mr. Hooper here, anyway he spotted us and a few hours later a big ol’ fat PBY come down and started to pick us up. You know that was the time I was most frightened. Waitin’ for my turn. I’ll never put on a lifejacket again. So, eleven hundred men went into the water. Three hundred sixteen men come out, the sharks took the rest, June the 29th, 1945.

Anyway, we delivered the bomb.”

44 notes · View notes

catertaters · 1 year

Text

Dream Thursday 12/1/22

First thing I remember from this dream is I’m in the car with you, but it’s a white car and there’s a huuuuge center console area. The world looks kinda pixelated through the windows, super slightly. We’re going down backroads and up and down hills. I’m trying to give you bj but I can’t reach so you pull your seat all the back and have me climb there and uh proceed. You tell me to stop before you cum because “she can’t find out I’ve cum” and I asked you who and you parked the car under a flight of spiral stairs in the middle of a double fenced in area by an overpass. We’re running down a massive highway dodging cars. We come across like 5-6 other people who are doing the same thing. The cars look insane, like rounded out fighter jets and the road has a divet for the pointy center on the underside of the cars. It looks super futuristic and nuts. And there’s like certain lanes for certain speeds and there’s booster pads for going up hills and shit. And in my dream logic I thought “oh this is why it took forever for the road work on 422, all highways are like this now”. Anyway, among the other 6 people that are dodging cars on this highway is my dad, but he’s only wearing torn jagged cargo pants and ripped up trench coat with no shoes and has like large masses or bumps all over his feet and his stomach. I try to run faster so he doesn’t notice me but you get all excited because you think he’s fascinating in like a macabre kind of way. So you grab my arm and make me slow down but I’m having a panic attack and can feel my heart beat in my eyes. We all stop at like a picnic area in the middle of this highway and all start sharing these weird sandwiches that look like tuna and cucumber but the one I get has hair on it so I throw it my dad. He eats it anyway. You’re laughing and hanging out with him and I get freaked out, and there’s some shit I don’t remember but the three of us are walking down this alley that’s lit up by torch light and isn’t paved, it’s just a dirt road in what looks like a shanty town, with fences everywhere with like scraps of fabric hanging. We come up to a guy wearing fat red nike shoes with no laces and he calls my dad a pussy cause he stole them from him and he can’t cut it here with the rest of the muties. This guy is like 7 ft tall with blisters on his face and hands and looks like he might has a tail (looks like a rats tail or could’ve been a giant rat behind him I don’t remember). But my dad grabs this giant bone, looks like it was a femur and it has another bone off the top of it that’s shaved down and sharpened and looks like it’s a scythe. He causually walks up to this guy thing and just stabs him up through is stomach and rips open is chest cavity and spits on his heart and steals his shoes back. You and I start running and we’re running so fucking fast we’re passing cars and hoping fences like 2 at a time (these fences are like two city blocks away from each other) and we find our car down that spiral stair case and just hop from the top of the stair case and right into the seats. There’s two massive ogre looking guys near the front and rear of the car and you try to back it away slowly but they start swinging so you back two walls and your headlights come off and you talk to the car “are you okay to drive” and it just goes and we drive and I’m crying and freaking out and you start to tell me something but there’s a fire in the street with a gang of these muties that are chasing us and some blockading the road we crash into them and then I woke up.

#dream #wasteland #trauma #hidden meaning #I’m scared of this #nightmare #panic attack

2 notes · View notes