#he is NOT florida man he is cajun

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

Why is Roy harper giving me bayou boy/swamp man vibes.

[cera-writes]

I love all your fics and i read you wanted to write song fics, and I've been obsessed with TTPD and Gambit this past month, so I was thinking in a hiper angsty fic inspired on this album and other songs, where Gambit meets Avenger! Reader, who is in her twenties, and they have a secret relationship because it could be a disaster between their teams, and she doesn't know Remy and Rogue's history, so when they break up and he goes back to Rogue, the reader doesn't know if everything that they had was real to him, plot twist Remy was using her to get information all that time. And she's heartbroken, but at the same time, she has so much rage.

Some songs by taylor swift that give me the vibe of their relationship: "Gorgeous", "Suburban Legends", "willow", "Slut!" "august", "Guilty as sin?", "Florida!!!", "The smallest man who ever lived", "down bad", "my boy only breaks his favourite toys", "how did it end?", "Would've, could've, should've", "dear john"

plus: "Silver Springs" and "can't catch me now" because he'll always be tormented by her love

* Sorry if there's something you can't understand, English is not my first language!!! Also, I don't know if you like Taylor or if this is a long request for you, so I understand if you don't write this, but I hope it can help you when you need inspiration.

And thanks for feeding the Gambit nation, his fics are scarce and everything you write is amazing xoxoxo

-💫

A/N: hello fellow Swiftie~ I wrote these sectioned into mini parts! It'd probably take me a while to write a full length fic but I summarized their relationship according to each song you requested :) Pairing: Remy "Gambit" LeBeau x (Avenger) AFAB!Reader

Tangled Threads (A Gambit/Avenger!Reader Songfic)

Part 1: Gorgeous (and secret trysts)

He sauntered in, that Cajun charm dripping like molasses, a smirk playing on his lips that could disarm a bomb squad. Gambit. Not exactly Avenger material, an X-Man, but here he was lounging in the small speakeasy, all roguish charisma and smoldering unusual eyes. The two of you had struck up a secret alliance, amidst a blossoming relationship.

"He's gorgeous," you thought, trying to focus on the holographic briefing flickering before you. "Gorgeous enough to be a criminal mastermind." The internal voice was probably right.

He caught your eye, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Mind if I join the party, cher? Looks like you could use some company."

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. *"This isn't a party, Gambit. Briefing. And besides. we're supposed to be secretive."

"Even briefings need a little spice, wouldn't you agree?" He leaned closer, his voice a low rumble. "Besides, I brought intel."

That piqued your interest. Intel was always welcome, especially from someone as questionable as Gambit. The next few hours were a blur of stolen glances, whispered strategies, and a thrill that sent shivers down your spine. This shouldn't feel so good, not with him on the other side of the line.

But there he was, effortlessly weaving himself into the fabric of your world, a secret melody in the symphony of my life. "And you're right here, right next to me," the T-Swift song echoed over the ambiance of the bar, perfectly capturing the forbidden electricity crackling between you.

Stolen moments turned into stolen nights. Rooftop rendezvous under the city lights, whispered secrets amidst the chaos. You were a tangled mess, a love story written in code, a secret waiting to be exposed.

"Deep down, I know this is delicate," the lyrics resonated with the fragile nature of your connection. "But I can't turn away." The danger was intoxicating, a forbidden fruit you couldn't resist. But the fear, a persistent whisper in the back of my mind, gnawed at you.

Was it real, or was it just a game? Were you just another pawn in Gambit's grand scheme? The thought sent a tremor through you. "Maybe we got something good," the song continued in your headphones, painting a hopeful picture despite the growing doubt.

But hope, like trust, was a fragile thing. One day, the melody would change, the chords turning discordant. And when it did, the fallout would be a symphony of heartbreak.

Part 2: Willow (and Whispers)

"We can't keep doing this," you whispered one starlit night, the weight of your double life heavy on your chest. "It's too risky. We're on opposite sides."

He pulled you closer, the familiar warmth a bittersweet comfort. "Love doesn't play by team rules, cher." You could never tell what he was thinking. He always had that damn poker face.

"If this was an open shut case, I never would've known from the look on your face, Rem," you replied, challenging his open statement.

"Heh," he smirked. "Daring though, non?"

"But it can get us both killed," you countered, the voice you used for briefings laced with unspoken fear.

"Maybe that's the thrill, yeah?" He winked, the playful facade a mask for something deeper. "You're a prize I'd cheat to win, chere."

A knot tightened in your stomach. Was it just a game to him? Was he another "august slip away into a moment in time," a fleeting fling he'd discard when the thrill faded? "Guilty as sin," you thought, a line from another song echoing your turmoil.

Part 3: Slut! (and Lies)

The news hit you like a psychic blast. Remy LeBeau, back with Rogue. Public declarations, lovey-dovey photos splashed across mutant newsfeeds. The air felt thick with betrayal, the stolen moments tainted with a sickening suspicion. "Slut! Oh, you're the only one who even tried." The song ripped through you, a cruel mirror reflecting your shattered trust.

Fury simmered, a storm brewing beneath the hurt. Were you just a pawn in some twisted game? "Down bad, down bad, but I won't cry." You wouldn't let him break you. Rage, a fiery ember, ignited alongside the heartbreak. Maybe this was for the best. Your reputation had never been worse. At least you could focus on your team and not Remy anymore. But who were you kidding? It hurt.

Part 4: The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived (and Doubts)

Days turned into a blur of training, a desperate attempt to drown the doubts. "Was he the smallest man who ever lived?" You questioned everything, replaying his words, searching for a crumb of truth. Had he ever loved you, or was it all an act? A cruel manipulation to infiltrate the Avengers?

Part 5: Dear John (and Deception)

You cornered him, the raw emotions a maelstrom in your eyes. "Did any of it mean anything, Remy?" The question hung heavy in the air.

His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Always cherish the memories, cher. But some things just can't last."

"Would've, could've, should've," you seethed. "Was it all a lie?" The words were a gut punch, a desperate plea for the truth.

He turned away, a flicker of regret in his eyes. "Maybe that's a story for another time."

Raw, unbridled anger burned through your veins.

"Right," you spat, the bitterness dripping from your tongue. "Just another girl you used and discarded." The weight of his betrayal settled on you, a heavy cloak.

Chapter 6: Can't Catch Me Now (and a Tangled Future)

The training room became your sanctuary. Sweat turned into tears, the pain fueling a relentless drive. Punches became declarations, each blow a defiant roar against his betrayal. "Flying like a jet stream, faster than the white cars can go." You wouldn't be some damsel in distress, a mere conquest in his web of lies. You'd become stronger, faster, a force to be reckoned with.

He might call himself Gambit, but the real gamble was his. He'd bet on manipulating you, using you for his own ends. But the tables had turned. You wouldn't be another forgotten pawn in his game.

One day, your paths would cross again. And when they did, you wouldn't be the naive hero he'd once known. He might slip through your fingers like charged cards, haunted by the ghost of a love he couldn't keep. But as you soared through the air, empowered by rage and renewed purpose, one thing was certain:

"You can't catch me now."

Hope this was okay! I tried to use most of the songs you listed! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

[usedtobethelegendcreator]

Okay, I keep seeing this pop up, so I’ll take it upon myself to correct it.

*clears throat*

WELCOME TO MY TED TALK ON THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN CAJUN AND CREOLE, AS IT RELATES TO ALASTOR.

Exhibit A:

Notice: Creole. Not Cajun. CREOLE.

Exhibit B (diagram courtesy of me):

Now, this is how it was explained to me when I was tiny. Way back in Ye Olden Days TM, there was an area of Canada called Acadia. It was made up of a bunch of French dudes. The French dudes of Acadia said ‘Fuck it’ and moved south. Way, way down south. Eventually, the accent developed there evolved to the point where the dudes from Acadia (and their kids) began to be known as Cajuns. So Cajuns are essentially the Australian version of French people that made gator-riding a sport. (No, that’s not a joke. My great-grandfather went gator-riding. We’re Florida Man made French.)

My (admittedly vague) knowledge of Cajun origins comes from the fact that, well, I’m part Cajun, and my grandparents were big on story-telling. Can’t be helped.

I know even less about Creole origins. All I know is that they came up from somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico—which, as you can see, is literally on our fucking doorstep. And that bitch is temperamental.

So no, Alastor might not have been as big on French as SOME fic writers seem to believe. He could have been, though. But he most definitely had some Strong Opinions on hurricane season.

And, as a side note, New Orleans is not the capital of Louisiana. Not even close. The capital is Baton Rouge. New Orleans is just the most well-known and culturally influential city. It’s kind of like a much more humid Los Angeles, from what I’ve heard.

THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK.

[the-overgrown-states]

I know I’ve already sent an ask/asks today-

But I saw that you were doing age regression hc’s for the states and I was wondering if you had any for the silly Cajun man (Loui my precious <3)?

*not forcing btw dw!!*

you can send as many asks as you want!! and yes i doooo

Loui is mostly a caretaker

but he does regress sometimes

doesn’t really let anyone know that he regresses

it’s a 50/50 if Florida knows to be honest

Loui’s very calm, collected, and responsible as a little when he’s by himself

when he’s around others, he’s very chaotic

he’ll clean, read, make food, etc when he’s alone

when he’s with others, he’s trying to rough house, play, makes random noises, etc

he regresses to 6-11

mainly is a 7 year old

likes watching Bluey

Princess and the Frog is his favorite movie to watch when regressed

Accidentally regresses while being a caretaker for other states

is very good at hiding it though

occasionally has to pawn a regressed Florida off on Alaska or a northeastern state

the midwest refuses to watch him

loves seafood even more when he’s regressed

will eat it nonstop if given the option

has bottles stored around the house everywhere

theyre “for Florida”

but theyre actually just for him and he lets Florida borrow them

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

🔫 random loui hcs. now. /silly

OK OK DAMN PUT THE GUN DOWN-/silly

-Loui has a weird habit of hanging off edge of the couch and just staring into the soul of whoever makes eye contact with him. Those that are close to him know that it isn't a stare of malicious intent, and think it's adorable. Those that ain't close to him, fear that they are going to get killed in their sleep.

-Loui can make some DAMN good food okay!? He's really good at cooking, and is one of the main cooks of the Statehouse. He mainly cooks southern and Cajun food, but he's not opposed to Spanish food or other cuisine (like Italian, German, Asian, ect...). Hes very open to trying new stuff.

-he carries around this notebook and keeps recipes and notes in it (tho a few other states think that it is full of spells and curses):

-Loui mainly speaks French, but he learned Spanish from Florida, Vietnamese from Sippi and Texas, Dutch from NY, and Gaelic from Mass. He also used what he knew about Dutch and whatever he picked up from PA to teach himself German.

-Texas took Loui to meet his horses, and Loui both loved it and was terrified. Eventually tho, Texas taught Loui how to trick-ride and was very patient and kind when Loui was scared to try something. Now they both give Kentucky, Florida, Sippi, and Mass heart attacks :3

-Loui can distort his voice and make it glitch, along with himself. He often uses this when threatening people and trying to scare them. Sometimes tho, he does it unintentionally and that can be annoying.

-he bites as a form of affection. He can also bite as a defence, but it is usually affectionate. He'll just sneak up on somebody he loves and bite their shoulder, arm, or neck (not in a sexual way-). But wave your finger in front of his face teasingly and youre gonna have to hope that you don't lose it.

-so his hair is naturally curly, but sometimes he puts it into braids or dreads and will put beads (usually Mardi Gras themed to match his necklace), flowers, or dainty little gold/silver pieces in it.

-he tattoos himself and draws on himself alot. Sometimes, Florida, Sippi, Texas, Mass, York and Georgia will let him draw on them since they trust him and he's good at it.

-Loui is ✨B E N D Y✨. Just at any second, he could drop into a split or backbend. He hides in cupboards if York isnt already occupying them.

-This mf may be lanky af, but he is REALLY strong. Just ask Texas and Alaska. They'll begrudgingly tell you all about it.

-because he mostly uses his hands for magic, hands very from either being too numb, or too sensitive. Sometimes he can barely feel them and has to check that they're still there (he knows they are, but still-). Other times, they are way too sensitive to pain and touch. If he burns his hand on something, he will be cradling his hand and possibly crying for a bit, and if Florida decides to be a little sh*t and swipe a finger down his palm, he will be blushing and trying to not laugh cuz it tickles him a little bit.

-I imagine Loui's singing voice to sound like a mixture of Brendon Urie (Panic! At The Disco's lead singer), Tom Rosenthal, and XXXTentacion. Idk bro. You ask for random I give you random.

-ive said it before and I'll say it again. DON'T give this man a gun. Even Florida won't.

-He is somehow a bit afraid of fire and is a pyromaniac. He sees fire and is like-"Eh no touch....But touch- but hot and dangerous- But touch and play-"

-he gets headaches pretty often from the spirits

[itcamefromthetoybox]

Gatorland’s Most Wanted

Let me take you back in time, dear readers, to a magical period called “The 1990’s.” In this strange time, we didn’t have Netflix, or YouTube, or anything like that. Instead, if you wanted to watch a show, you went to a place called a “Video Rental Store,” and paid to rent a plastic rectangle called a “VHS.” It would be a movie or a few episodes of a TV show that you would watch and then physically bring back to the store after about 3-4 days or so. As a kid, I loved renting VHS tapes, and some of my favorite tapes to rent were episodes of the original “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.” So imagine my sheer joy, readers, when I walked into a store this week and saw the original toys for reasonable prices. For a moment, I was 9 again. I didn’t have taxes, or bills, or a chronic illness. I had utter bliss. And that’s why we’re looking at “TMNT Classic Leatherhead,” because I want to relive my childhood wonder!

I freaking love the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I just wanna get that out there. I freaking adore them. I could write whole essays on why Michelangelo and Raphael constantly alternate as my favorite character. I could present an entire analysis on what makes Bebop and Rocksteady such great villains. I could do a powerpoint on why the rivalry between Shredder and Master Splinter is the stuff of legends. Basically, I’m going into this with some biases, and those biases were born of love.

Pretty sure you already know who the Ninja Turtles are, but if not, let’s do a quick overview: while the details as a whole change from series to series, with each show or comic universe being a fresh start for the characters, the basics stay the same: exposure to a strange ooze mutates four baby turtles into humanoid turtles who are then trained by rat who was also mutated (sometimes he is a man who became a rat, and sometimes he is a rat who became a rat-man) in the art of ninjutsu. They find themselves in conflict with aliens, other mutants, and their most significant foes, the ninja clan known as The Foot, and its leader, the masked warrior called The Shredder. Surprisingly, this premise has led to some dark, serious stories, and the original comics were very much not aimed at kids, dealing with themes such as child soldiers, the endless cycle of vengeance and violence and how it warps all it touches, prejudice, and the death of loved ones. The series people tend to think of, though, is the very fun and campy cartoon from the 80’s, which is where Leatherhead, the subject of today’s review, comes from.

Leatherhead is a character whose specific deal varies depending on which series you look at. Sometimes, he’s pretty sympathetic, wanted to lash out at those who hurt him and to take care of his friends. Sometimes, he’s very much someone who has become a villain due to letting his hate for his enemies consume him. And sometimes, he’s an alligator from Florida with a shotgun and a bear trap who talks like he came from the most stereotypical part of Louisiana. We’re looking at that version, because he is delightful.

Offensively Cajun.

I love how this toy looks. Every part of his design is so different from what most action figures do, where the figure is standing upright, arms at the side and face with a stoic expression, or just so riddled with joints that it detracts from the looks of the thing. Leatherhead’s hunched over, posed like he’s ready for the hunt, and clearly grinning sinisterly. His vest and pants are torn and ragged to show that they’re clearly not made for him and that he’s forced his way into them, and his hat’s plopped down on his head in a way that screams “swamp man.” His entire look is a lot of fun. Also, while his belt is unpainted, making some details on it hard to see, it actually has a lot of things hanging from it: ammo, bait, and various critters Leatherhead’s caught and intends to eat. It also has a place to store Leatherhead’s gun when he’s not on the hunt. His design’s very animated and fun to look at. Which Leatherhead’s belt and accessories lack paint, he himself is very colorful and blatantly a a toy. His design and paint job scream “play with me!”

In terms of articulation, Leatherhead’s alright. He has very basic articulation in that his legs, arms, neck, and tail move. That’s nothing too surprising. His mouth can open and close, which is delightful, though, he loses points because his head’s a bit loose. I can feel it wiggle when I turn it, and even though I know it’s fine and the head is in no danger, it does annoy me.

The state mascot of Florida: an alligator with a shotgun.

Leatherhead comes with two accessories: a shotgun and a bear trap. This is delightful. Those accessories go along perfectly with how cartoonishly stereotypical he is, which is fine because he’s a cartoon character from the 80’s-90’s. His accessories are fun little things for kids to play with, so they’re fun, simple things. The shotgun fits nicely in Leatherhead’s hands and can attach to his belt, and the bear trap opens and closes. It’s not spring-loaded, but that’s a good thing because otherwise someone’s losing a finger. Probably me. I make bad choices sometimes. Now, his belt is removable, which I guess makes it count as an accessory, but I didn’t want to risk damaging it, so I refused to take it off for pics. Leatherhead comes wearing it, so I just left it as is.

One bag of meth away from being Florida’s new state flag.

Leatherhead does have one big issue that I want to point out. Due to how he’s sculpted, his balance is a bit off and he falls over easily. That’s pretty much it. He’s from an era where toys were played with and then set aside to be played with more later, so “standing perfectly balanced for display” really wasn’t on the designers’ minds. You can get him to balance, but it’s going to take a little effort.

Strutting his stuff on the catwalk.

Leatherhead and the other “TMNT Classic” toys are available at mass retail, but I’d actually be hard-pressed to give you a price range. I’ve seen the figures at some stores for about $20, but I found Leatherhead and a bunch of other figures at Target for $11 as the standard price. They weren’t on discount or special sale or anything. Their regular price was $11. The toys are aimed at ages 4 and up, and I would absolutely recommend them. They’re fun to play with, delightful characters, and just all around a joy. And the boxes have character bios on the back, so kids can be introduced to the characters. I would absolutely say to go out and get them. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go play with Leatherhead and relive the magic of my youth again. This is JS signing off and wishing you Happy Toy Hunting!

[pankomako]

holy FUCK this blew up overnight. really cool hearing everyone's answers, now i wanna share

this deer skull found just outside the cabin my parents used to own & rent out in the Appalachians

my double-jointed left thumb (but not my right for some reason. im so asymmetrical lmao)

on my family's first trip to Germany like a couple years ago, we concluded it by spending a weekend in Paris and that's when we went inside the Eiffel Tower. the stairs were BRUTAL. i dont have any pictures from the interior but here's a couple i took

my dad's parents divorced and both remarried and that's how i have 6 grandparents. it's been that way my whole life and i didn't realize the situation until like sometime within the past few years LOL. luckily they're all in Louisiana so we get to visit them all on the same trip

i have a friend who's done stuff with jerma. it's this guy

he was also in dougdoug's shufflemania. yeah the big funny-looking dude. i've known the guy for about 7 years and been one of his mods for maybe close to 5. he's a goofy idiot and he's super super nice and i love him :)

i'm not from Florida but i've been there plenty of times so i certainly have seen wild dolphins there. and maybe in South Carolina too idk

as for the alligator there used to be a cajun restaurant my family liked to visit every once in a while (unfortunately now closed) and i tried some fried "alligator bites" there once as a kid. was pretty good and yeah kinda like chicken. i was born n raised in Virginia but both my parents are from Louisiana so ✌️

was HUGE on angry birds at one point in my childhood. i played a lot of the games, watched all the shorts, even drew the characters. this was before the movie when they were going HAM with the spinoff games. truly the peak of the series i lowkey miss that era

my brother (who's turning 13 in a few days!) LOVES trains. has done so pretty much his whole life. he nitpicks about trains and train sounds in media and gets excited any time he sees a train. definitely not something i'm into but i cant bash his interests

the man with the yellow hat's actual name is ted shackleford. i dont remember where specifically i got this information but i certainly know it. also the original movie is literally so pretty art-wise can we talk about that. (my brother likes the sequel. guess why.) (the third movie was so boring and unnecessary why did they make it (yes they made a third one genuinely dont bother with it))

as always, reblog to get more eyes on this post. :P

[thebarefootcajun]

She Almost Died of a Broken Heart

Her name was Miss Nattie Bee, she had a room and board place right at the edge of the village of Myrtes Roses, translated as pink myrtles. Since the climate was similar to the tropics, the crepe myrtles in the town were in bloom at least nine months out of the year.

Miss Nattie Bee was always at full occupancy, yet she never let a stranger sleep outside. Somehow she always found accommodations for everyone. She was meant to be in hospitality service.

Miss Nattie Bee served three full meals a day. Any leftovers she left in an old pink refrigerator right outside her kitchen door. Anyone was welcome to have something to eat. Her southern fried chicken reigned supreme. Miss Nattie Bee was born to fry chicken, the quintessential southern dish.

At 3:19 on the dot Miss Nattie Bee served her homemade port sherry on her big old wrap around porch attached to her house. The afternoon soirées lasted til 3:59. It became a storytelling event, old and new regional southern stories retold and introduced. Miss Nattie Bee wanted these stories to live on archived in the minds of the citizens of Myrtes Roses.

A man stayed at her place one night. His name was Uncle Nehemiah passing through from Florida headed West. He fell for Louisiana and for Miss Nattie Bee. Uncle Nehemiah moved in with Miss Nattie Bee. Quite handy around the place Uncle Nehemiah steadily

made improvements. The place got a facelift.

One morning Nattie Bee woke up and found Uncle Nehemiah gone. She was quite heartbroken. So heartbroken she lied on her bed day and night. She canceled the sherry on the wrap around porch. Miss Nattie Bee had a broken heart. The doctor said she might die unless something changed.

All of the neighbors and friends rallied around Miss Nattie Bee. They came to her house each day at 3:19 and stayed until 3:59. They told southern stories, funny ones and good feeling ones. Miss Nattie smiled, listened and thanked them, but it was clear her heart wasn’t in it. She missed her love, Uncle Nehemiah.

On a cool, brisk autumn morning when all of the Cajuns were loving a break from the heat and humidity, there was a knock at the door, lo and behold Miss Nattie Bee thought she was seeing a ghostly spirit. It was Uncle Nehemiah. He saw how thin and frail Miss Nattie Bee looked. Uncle Nehemiah was worried. Miss Nattie Bee hadn’t moved from her bed since he had left months ago.

Uncle Nehemiah sat by her bed holding her hand. She smiled. It was the happiest Miss Nattie Bee had been since he had left.

He told her, “Miss Nattie Bee, je vous aime.” (Miss Nattie Bee, I love you.”

She listened more closely, “Je suis parti parce que je n'étais pas assez bien pour toi.” (I left because I wasn’t good enough for you.)

Miss Nattie Bee answered, “mais vous êtes.” (But you are.)

Uncle Nehemiah asked, “Miss Nattie Bee, je veux te épouser.” ( I want to marry you.)

Miss Nattie Bee answered, “ Je vu aime, Nonc Nehemiah.” (I love you, Uncle Nehemiah.)

[ohioprelawland]

Two American Citizens Lost At Sea After Two Separate Overboard Incidents

By Jenna Kokish, The Ohio State University Class of 2024

June 5, 2023

18-year-old, Louisiana native, Cameron Robbins jumped overboard of a ship on Wednesday, May 24th in the Bahamas. The waters in which he jumped into, near Athol Island, which is northeast of Nassau are known to be shark infested. Robbins, a recent high school graduate, travelled to the Bahamas as a way of celebrating his graduation. Robbins was aboard, “Blackbeard’s Revenge” on a sunset cruise with other high school graduates from Baton Rouge. Robbins leaves behind his friends and family and has been remembered as a fierce competitor. In recent search efforts, no signs of him were found, leaving the Coast Guard to call off their search on May 27th. During the expansive, 325-square-mile search for Robbins, Robbins family headed to the Bahamas to assist in the search for Cameron, Brian Trascher, vice president of the United Cajun Navy told WBRZ, “When we offered to take them out in a boat to the area where he went overboard and some of the area they were searching… They went, which I know had to be very emotional for them, but they went.” Robbins was designated by authorities as, “lost at sea,” which in turn, equates to a death certificate.  With no confirmed details, it has been assumed that Robbins had passed away, but his cause of death remains unknown. Many are presuming a possible shark attack, or a drowning. It is alleged that Cameron Robbins jumped overboard due to a dare, but that is still alleged and yet to be proven. Along with the dare, it is speculated that alcohol could have played a part, the drinking age in the Bahamas is 18, which leads us to believe that Robbins, along with the other recent high school graduates were consuming alcohol upon the sunset cruise they took in the Bahamas. Consumption of alcohol can cloud judgements and decision making. A memorial service was hosted on June 4th, 2023, to honor and remember Cameron Robbins, prior to the service, his parents thanked the community and all those who have expressed care and concern and asked for continued privacy as they grieve their kind and funny son.

Along with Robbins being designated lost at sea, 35-year-old, Ronnie Peale Jr., has also been designated lost at sea. Peale went overboard a Carnival Cruise ship just days following Robbin’s going overboard. The coast guard confirms that crews in ships and aircrafts searched more than 5,000 square feet. According to his partner, Jennilyn Blosser, they attended the cruise to celebrate her birthday, it was Peale’s first cruise. She woke up and was unable to locate her partner, that is when she called his mother in hopes of her hearing from him that day. She later reported Peale as missing in the afternoon of Monday, May 29th, 2023. Surveillance footage has confirmed Peale had gone overboard from his balcony around 4:10 am on Monday morning, approximately 186 miles east of Jacksonville, Florida, according to the U.S. Coast Guard. The United States Coast Guard has suspended the search for Peale as of June 1st, 2023.

With the recent overboard accidents happening within days of each other, the discussion of putting more safety measures in place on ships is crucial. Many who have attended cruises and some who were on the cruise where Peale went overboard have stated that those balconies are hard to fall from, that they have the safety in place to keep people from falling into the water below them. As far as the Robbins case, why weren’t there taller and more restrictive boarders to keep patrons on the boat, how was an 18-year-old man able to climb over and jump from the boat. Others argue that it is common knowledge to stay inside of a boat and to not jump overboard, but others may also argue that being an 18-year-old who could have had alcohol in his system, with no parental guidance, and pressure from his peers, it was meant to be a silly joke, but such joke has turned into such a tragedy. With a boat such as Blackbeard’s revenge, which was carrying several hundred recent high school graduates, it is crucial that there be more safety placed along the edges of the boat to keep the patron’s inside of the boat. Even safety boats and other floatation devices that can be heaved into the water if a passenger were to go overboard could be useful in situations such as this tragic accident. Although these were both accidents that resulted in great tragedy, it is important to remember the victims, and their friends and family.

______________________________________________________________

https://www.cnn.com/2023/05/26/us/louisiana-high-school-graduate-missing-bahamas-boat/index.html

https://www.unilad.com/community/man-buys-entire-cruise-ship-on-craigslist-015824-20221226

https://nypost.com/2023/06/01/cameron-robbins-family-retraced-his-final-steps-in-bahamas/

https://www.cnn.com/2023/05/30/us/florida-carnival-overboard-search/index.html

Photo Credit: QuietWest3764 / Reddit

[the-firebird69]

There are a bunch of movies going on and in reality the last witch hunter is happening shortly and they're seeking Lily and she Burns partially and comes back. Is protected by the Cajun walks out and heels and was 30% burned and the man Johnny braveheart the last witch hunter is Trump has no heart and it is taken to a Subway in New York City where Calisto places it, from there it goes to the Caribbean and he sees it after he is Johnny braveheart and figures out the story sort of seeks the heart which is still beating and his blood and circulating from him moving around and the Cajun monster inside is pumping it and the crew dies over and over at some point losing all of their flesh and it's rebuilt over and over. The calypso she supposed to create the whirlpool it's a very large Eddie and they think it is time for it to drop any are trying to get to you to kidnap you and none of them can hardly even move. Let's see a few valuable things they think we don't know if they're checking the status of the big tunnels they think we don't know how big they are and they think we don't know what the status is all sorts of dumb things and it is a tunnel open it up but it's not a friendly tunnel and they don't get it we do kind of sick of you so what happens and they're almost going to die I want to decide to try and then relax miraculously saved. But it really is is a monster and our son's monster and the devastates you that devistates you really make it home. It's a very valuable lesson to learn in the Caribbean about Eddie's and the tunnels and monsters and only a few learn it and that's it nothing there's nothing else for you there.

This is about to get it but hey cuz if he's here and all over the world things like this so you wish you luck on our way out you need to get out of here and I'm pretty cheesy I'm not being able to Ford and so on I wait o afford being able to pay somebody a million dollars a year but something equally is cheesy I haven't done anything correctly the whole time they said we're holding his head above water just barely along with the max so that's not very good and yeah I'm upset about that we can't make it up to anybody I guess it doesn't know what's going on then devastated we've been devastated by War and we are being removed from Florida forcibly and it's better for us to relocate bja says.

I see we can't relocate we have to be here and we don't have enough people we're try to get them here, it's not working and he says there's a blockade but Jason is threatening everybody so he looked into that and it's not moving anybody here is protecting his areas so we're stuck and there's no where to go bja trump says

We got our way here we can get our way out BG says

It's not for you to decide it's for the powers to be here to tell us what they're going to do trump

Just sit still for a minute and think about it for a while before you panic and ask him how to do everything Camilla says

We're going to do that now bja says

Yup Trump says

And it's been going on for a while see above and they see there's a problem the blockade is back up, and they're being weeded out here and thinned out. It's a strange thing because they are leaving here all the time and they noticed it now if there's a difference it Max are taking everybody who is a morlok I not just new arrivals or trouble makers. There's a big difference in volume and who it is too ppl that have been here for years, our vanishing and forever so they got on the horn to tell people and I'll continue this in a

Moment

Thor Freya

[wh47-7h3-un1v3r53-15-m4d3-0f]

You know what? WHY NOT

Southern Strawhat Headcanons (Brought to you by a Southerner)

Starting off, I AM CLAIMING ROBIN FOR SOUTH CAROLINA! There is so much historical shit in Charleston alone that she would be having a ball. She'd be one of those nice ladies that hang around the battery offering up neat facts. Or horrifying ones. It depends on your opinion and how strong your stomach is. She's also the person that tells Nami and Luffy about the Market (yes capitalized) and monitors them while they go through. (She also mentions the sweetshop on the corner and watches Luffy tear through it like nothing.)

I will give you Appalachian Chopper. In fact, i raise you Appalachian cryptid Chopper. The amount of shit that lives in those damn hills, he'd be living happy as a deer person because NOBODY WOULD BE QUESTIONING SHIT! The amount of times he has to tell Zoro NOT TO WALK OFF THE DAMN PATH if the Strawhats ever go back to visit Kureha or something is astronomical. Unfortunately for him, Zoro smells booze (reds making SOMETHING in their bathtubs, i can't guarantee it's drinkable) and he is going to drink until he can't anymore. If that's even possible.

For anyone who doesn't know, the Waffle House Index is how we Southerners tell how fucked we are in natural disasters. Franky, Florida man that he is (because you cannot tell me 'Ex-Gang member jerryrigs himself high tech prosthetics with GUNS in them' doesn't sound like a Florida man headline) IGNORES THE DAMN INDEX and his house, because he built that shit to LAST, withstands the hurricane anyway by spite and force of engineering. Also, speaking of Waffle House, any that are near Luffy's location immediately close. Luffy is considered more dangerous than most hurricanes to a Waffle House. A feat that even HURRICANE HUGO failed to accomplish.

Zoro is originally from backwoods Alabama, got on a bus, and just didn't get off. Not even he remembers the name of the town he's from, because it didn't have one, nor the way to get back. He can however 1. Wrestle an alligator 2. Whine about weapons laws and 3. Argue with Sanji about barbecue. (Alabama white sauce is a CRIME). Speaking of Sanji, Cajun Sanji is a brilliant idea and i can already hear the schmooze coming out of his mouth. He refuses to make, or buy, daiquiris for Zoro and the swordman is upset because ALCOHOL.

Usopp...surprisingly doesn't give Southern vibes to me. He probably moved down to Mississippi when he was a kid but he was NOT born here. I'll give him Virginia at best (and Virginia's already on thin ice). He thinks because he's closer to the capital that it makes him cooler, and it does to Chopper, but the others just call him a Yank and he shuts up real quick.

MIAMI NAMI AND TENNESSEE BROOK! I won't hear otherwise. The amount of men Nami could scam on just the beaches. Plus, a lot of rich people live in Miami. So many people to con, so little time. And she's got an excuse to wear that flimsy bikini top, it MELTS in Miami. Brook is just chilling in Nashville. He's got no where to go but up, but old southern people don't die unless they DECIDE to go. The Strawhats picked him up and suddenly all his aches are gone unless it's convenient for him to have them.

That's about all i got. Unless it's not just the Strawhats. Because i have WORDS about how many one piece characters i could see in Myrtle Beach and not question their presence WHATSOEVER.

One piece AU where east blue is the American south

Florida backwoods trio ASL (Brazilian Luffy, Native Ace, Ashkenazi Sabo- His family are New York Jewish Snowbirds)

Ussop is from the Mississippi Delta and keeps lying about how he made a deal with the devil at the crossroads for his sniping skills

Nami is also from Florida but a more touristy/beachy area She hustles frat bros on spring break for money

[ezlebe]

Tomgreg prison era?

4-11

Dear Thomas Wambsgans –

Tom blinks at the flowy script and formal address, then reaches out and grabs the envelope… Yeah, it says it’s from Greg. He unfolds out the rest of the paper and it says Sincerely, Gregory Hirsch too.

He furrows his brow, wondering if this is something weird spear phishing scam by letter. It’s really bizarre, if so, but clearly it is working.

Dear Thomas Wambsgans,

The food here is dreadful. I finally understand your concerns, and have now had them realized, from our visit to the diner in Washington DC. It is worse than –

Okay, so it’s probably Greg, but is he… roleplaying? Did he dictate this aloud for some crook secretary to apply pen to paper, too?

 – when we went, I fear, as it seems to be entirely processed and I had forgotten the odd rubber texture to powder egg. It is even worse than the MREs that I once found on my grandfather’s ranch and sustained myself with for a week. Is the food for you also of subpar quality? I have been curious to know if mine is worse due to being in the state of Florida, where it is very hot and damp.

The other occupants here are surprisingly cordial, though there have been some friendly joshes toward my height, but it is no worse than any of the family. I do think I may have to learn Spanish. I have found a single fellow inmate who speaks French, but it is in an incomprehensible dialect called Cajun, which I previously believed only to be a type of food. I have struck up something of an acquaintanceship with this man, if only to irk those around us.

Sincerely, Gregory Hirsch

“Oh, buddy,” Tom mutters, covering a smile with a tight palm and exhaling a broken laugh into it. He drops the letter to cover his eyes with that hand, mortified at the burn behind them. It’s a nothing letter – it’s just… Greg sounding sort of like Greg, complaining about eggs, and third languages, and… and very deliberately reaching out to him.

Fuck. He’s so fucking happy thatit’s really just disgusting.

Tom reaches out and grabs the envelope, again, scanning his eyes across the address. He has no idea what he’s going to write back, except maybe to tell Greg that his French is fake, too.

~

Greg,

We’re not in a period drama. You’re okay to write to me like a real person.

The food here sucks, too. I would’ve taken you out to more dives, but let’s be real your affection for crappy chain food prepared you better than I ever could for it. If you repeat this, I’ll kill you, but I actually don’t mind powder eggs. They remind me of camping with the scouts.

My only real stumble here so far is this guy in for corporate fraud talking to me like he knows Connor. It’s bonkers. He doesn’t actually know him, right, because he thinks knowing him makes him more respectable in here. It does not. You would think him seeing me in here would make it plain as day that being in the Roy circle is meaningless, and yet.

How you doing, otherwise? I know you need a precise measure of water and shade like a delicate, fussy flower.

–Tom

~~

It takes about a week and a half to get a reply to a letter, which is maybe quick for moving a physical object a thousand or so miles, but is just horrific on Tom’s anxiety. He feels like a wartime widow, attending the mail drop and regularly disappointed, wondering if the last letter was the last. It’s just about the time he starts thinking he’s said something wrong, too, Greg has finally realized he shouldn’t be writing Tom, a new one shows up, easing his worries in a way almost like its own clockwork.

6-05

Dear Thomas,

I do not believe I was ever meant to take residence in Florida. It is very hot and humid, which is very manageable for visits, but I recall believing New York was too much, and this is far, far worse. I am beginning to feel like a slug. It is not allowed to simply stay in bed, but I fear that I will one day wake stuck to it.

I’ve been trying to do exercise since I arrived, but I dislike it, especially now that my body seems to be attempting to melt, so I’ve moved on to other pursuits. A good number of other inmates do not hold any regard for the less physical activities available to us –

Tom nearly covers his face, but settles for pinching the bridge of his nose; good lord, Greg is really playing at being such a dandy. Is it a psychological thing? He’s claimed it isn’t, but Tom really has no way to know, a whole country away.

– at all. I enjoy them, though. It is much better to be assigned an indoor detail, as well, than to be stuck outside toiling with a bunch of rude oafs who think height equals shares of physical labor.

Tom gives up and breaks into a laugh, dropping the letter to cover his mouth with both hands in attempt to muffle it.

A clear of a throat, which Tom had been avoiding, comes from behind him. “You good, Tom?”

“I think…” Tom sighs, dragging his hands down his face with a forceful swallow. “My only friend in the world has been driven insane by coke withdrawal.”

“…That can happen?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Tom says, as he picks the letter back up with a careful straightening of the paper. “But he’s weirder than ever.”

I have been unable to get any concrete answers about disease prevention to answer your question about the mosquitos. I was, however, informed that only twenty percent of people show outward symptoms of West Nile, so I may, in fact, have already had it?

How are your call out duties and activities among other inmates? I know that was something you were exceedingly worried about, and my experience so far in that is the warning was some measure exaggerated. It is not an amazing experience, nor one I would ever welcome, but now approaching my third month I have suffered the most of boredom. Your letters have bolstered me greatly, in that respect, as I keep them to reread when the impulse strikes me, which is often.

I also hope you’re doing well.

Sincerely, Gregory Hirsch

Tom furrows his brow, as a flush streaks across his nose. He presses his thumb against the word reread, covering and uncovering it, and tries not to think too much about the small, if growing stack of letters now well memorized on his own time.

~

Greg,

I hate to say it buddy but I’m not surprised you’re an indoors activity guy. I can actually see you running around with a little moleskine and a pen, though if it’s for secrets or pictures, who’s really to know?

I’ve been running and working out a lot, actually, so maybe it’s better we were separated by a spiteful, nasty old man of your blood relation. I’d have made you tag along to my free time whenever I get too cooped up and antsy, which is all the time, Greg. It is literally every day. I wish the unit staff here would assign me go out and do something awful and back-breaking outside, but I think they think I’m too soft and old, which is obviously its own insult.

I’m saving your letters for my tell-all book, so I hope you don’t expect anything to be forgotten. The world is going to know about the oatmeal thing and how you don’t know the capital of any US states, as well as the fact that you write to me like a lunatic in immaculate cursive. You’re going to get nothing but fountain pens and calligraphy sets, as gifts, from now on.

They better have bug spray in that commissary. I do not want you getting a brain disease and croaking out there on me. I would hate to have the entire state of Florida ruined for me by a mosquito.

– Tom

~~

“You got two from your lovely lady friend.”

Tom eyes Carter shuffling the letters like cards. “I know it says Greg.”

Carter demonstratively sniffing at the edges, pretending to look inside, generally just fondling Greg’s fucking letter, which is a bold move for a forger built like Roger Rabbit. “Don’t smell any perfume on it…”

“I know it also says FPC Pensacola,” Tom says, injecting every ounce of deliberate pleasantness that he can spare.

Carter pulls back and looks at the front of the envelope. He grunts and throws both at Tom. “Shit, so it does. I didn’t think that was allowed?”

Tom narrows his eyes, then glances down to the letters, as Carter fucks off to the next person in line. He turns them over in his hands by the corners, waiting until the unit is let loose, and decides forcefully not to ask. He doesn’t want to know if he’s got strings pulled without him knowing, until it matters; ignorance, at this point, is bliss.

Tom pulls out the first postmarked with a tense tug. He’s not sure why Greg would send two so close – he usually waits for a reply.

Tom! I saw an alligator!! It was like both bigger and smaller than assumed!

Tom raises an eyebrow, then flips over the page to a blank back.

Alright.

He reaches out for the next envelope, more careful at the twice over sealed seam.

8-16

Dear Thomas,

Okay, that’s more familiar. Evidently, the alligator was just exciting enough Greg forgot he’s pretending to be a Victorian.

It’s been a day and I have seen to send a formal letter.

I have weathered a small actual hurricane, but I just believed it a bad storm at the time. The water level rose high, but, thankfully, it did not outright flood. It was less intimidating an experience than I had assumed it would be after watching films on the subject. The hurricanes, evidently, do not get quite so bad in general and are most often a lot of rain and wind.

The alligator was roughly two meters in length and hissed quite loudly when it was woken, but did not make any other move. My fellow inmate Lou told me that the creature was simply sunning itself after the storm. He also informed me that they are cocodrie in his French and they can get much larger, but that they’re lazy. In return, I told him about orignal and that I would not have approached one so closely to the fence.

Are you still well? I do not know what August is like in Minnesota.

I have recently been considering the end of my stay here. I know you are sentenced for nearly twice as long, but do you think that I might see you before then? Our lawyer has said that it may be easiest to find out by trying to put my name on the list after my release in November.

Yours, Gregory Hirsch

Tom reads the last paragraph twice before he believes his eyes, sure he’s misreading something in Greg’s flowy, perfect cursive script. He curls against his dinky desk, into his elbow, and folds the letter up while swallowing thickly against emotion balling up at the base of his throat. He sets both letters with the others, then closes the drawer, ignoring impulse to take it back out to read a third time.

He wants to see Greg so much that it sits behind his sternum with all the comfort of the head of a morning star, but… it’s hard to believe that the sentiment might be returned, let alone enough to ask about it. He might just be being polite – it’s far more likely that their lawyer floated the idea out of bias.

~

Greg,

I can’t believe you saw a dinosaur when I haven’t even seen a deer. I’m relieved you were okay during the hurricane, though, and every other storm. It sounds like a lot of water to be dealing with and I don’t envy it. Stay safe. You can probably survive any flooding by standing up, but I don’t think we want to test it.

The worst August weather up here is just a little rain. I haven’t even had to deal with it much. The winter is in a couple months and that’s going to really suck the energy out of everything. I can’t wait to feel like I’m in fifth grade and forced to go outside for recess again. I bet you’re familiar with the feeling, though I’ve never thought to ask where you went to school? The one I went to was private and still made us do it, but maybe Canada doesn’t allow that shit.

It’s no problem to try to get you on the list, but check in before you actually make any detour on your welcome home tour. I’d really love to see you, but you’ll have spent enough time in a prison, Greg, to ever walk willingly into another one.

What the flying fuck is an orignal?

 – Tom

~~

10-23

My Dearest Thomas,

Tom flips the upper third of the letter down and sets a flat look out the window. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times that he tells Greg to write like he was born in 1988, not 1788, he just won’t because he thinks it’s fun, the nut, and now it is just getting ridiculous.

All Hallows’ Eve approaches! I am most excited. I don’t believe that the camp will do anything monumental for the holiday, but I have sketched some decorations for the letter. The seasons are most odd in Florida, as well; I have been put on a garden detail and, because they do not have winter, they are still growing food. I enjoy it! It is a much better experience doing this under the direction of the faculty here than my grandfather, who had much patience for plants and little to spare elsewhere.

Tom didn’t actually need any confirmation that Ewan was basically a warden, but good to know he’s worse. He wonders, as well, if Greg is predisposed to entire conversations with plants; he seems the type. The little thinking pumpkins in the letter margins just sort of support the idea.

I have also sketched out one of the blossoms on the back from a zucchini. I find they are quite pretty. I was informed by a CO that they can be stuffed with ricotta and fried to be eaten, and I told him that sounded like something you might enjoy more than me. He said then that I must make them, but I believe that would be better left to you, as well.

I only have a month left, as of today! I cannot wait for the opportunity to see you. The letters are sustaining, but hardly satisfying enough compared to actual company.

Our lawyer has urged me that I should prepare for the cold and I was forced to remind her that I am from Canada; however, she then informed me that Toronto is, in all fact, south of both Twin Cities and Duluth. I never thought to look. I doubt still that it is all that bad.

Ever Yours, Gregory Hirsch

Tom stares at the closing for a beat, a reluctant grin twisting his mouth while he huffs through his nose. He flips the page over and studies the drawn flower, wilted and certainly somewhat lifelike, featuring faint lines and shading, and realizes Greg must be practicing a lot. He probably won’t be sending many more letters, tripping back into real life, but Tom hopes that Greg continues the artsy hobby. He’s not half bad at it. He’s like a little amateur naturist; a burgeoning, trapped Monet.

~

Greg,

Your cartoon pumpkins are very dark, thinking about being carved into pieces. I’m surprised the administration let the letter through at all, hah. Duluth isn’t doing Halloween, either, but there is a CO who started wearing cat eye contact lenses and it just comes off as a painfully dorky rebellion. It reminds me of Tyler the assistant with the Felix clock on his cubicle.

It’s now getting a bit colder and the leaves are turning, too. I expect meals are only going to get worse, from here, so I’m happy someone is going to be getting vitamin c even if it isn’t me. I hear a lot of rumor about hydroponics around here, but I don’t believe anyone is relating it to food. If you like the gardening, though, you should keep it up, so you’ll be prepared for when the world ends and we’re reduced to agrarian pursuits. I’ll do the hunting part.

I’ve noticed you’re collecting hobbies. A quick learner with a curse. What I’m saying is the flower is really well drawn, buddy, as in actually lifelike. I didn’t know you were such an artist.

I have heard of frying them, some Italian thing, but never tried it. It’s probably really crispy and greasy, so I wouldn’t dismiss to so quick for yourself. In a similar weird Italian thing, they do their own songbird, but from what I’ve seen, it is a bit too much even for me.

I miss you, too. I admit I asked about you and our lawyer said to my face she only uses you as an excuse to visit Florida. She doesn’t even It’s just rude.

– Tom

++++

“Wambsgans, visitor,” the CO says, jerking his head toward the visitor building with a flat expression. “Greg Hirsch.”

“What – Really?” Tom says, shocked that – well, Greg is even in the state so soon, since he was scheduled to be released only something like three days ago, but also that he got through the visitor screening process. It seems whoever is signing off on those is either a moron, letting in his accomplice, or the opposite of one, and knows Greg and he can’t exactly duplicate or plan any other version of their crime. …Or, more likely, his lawyer pulled strings. “Oh, I – ” he looks down at his rumpled uniform, suddenly feeling almost naked in it. “Okay.”

He enters the visitors room at the behest of another, more familiar, CO called Maria, and promptly forgets her and the rest of the bland room at the sight of Greg hovering near one of the bolted, tacky tables. His hair is longer, maybe having gone entirely uncut since the day they got stuck in their respective camps, and he’s hunched as ever, big round eyes staring back at Tom.

It’s tempting to do the crazy thing and piledrive Greg into the ground and never let him go, but Tom takes the sensible and sane choice to simply speedwalk to the table. He gets close enough and Greg jumps him, anyway, squeezing the life from him while Tom clumsily, hurriedly grabs back.

“Tom,” Greg murmurs in his ear.

“Hey, buddy,” Tom answers, softly, bracing his hands on Greg’s back with a hard swallow. He closes his eyes for a brief pair of moments, holding his breath and pretending they’re anywhere else. “Long time no see.”

Greg hums a vague response, a petulant grumble escaping his lips when Tom gently pulls away before a CO can come peel him off. It’s a whiny, spoiled little noise that Tom missed so much.

“You were really that eager to get back into another prison, huh?” Tom asks, settling across the table from Greg and ignoring another plain stupid idea to reach out for Greg’s hands to make themselves a summoning circle of two. It’s not like a hug; he’s never held Greg’s hand.

Greg sweeps some overlong hair behind his ear, leaning into the table with a shrug.

Tom is just struck dumb by the fact Greg is sitting in front of him. He’s solid and real and here, and Tom needs to do more than just stare at him. “Florida for eight months and not even a tan?”

Greg grins and stretches out his arms to look at the pale backs of them. “I guess not?”

“You doing okay?” Tom asks, glancing over Greg from his bulky sweater to his obviously new jeans, ankles exposed to the air with a shock of white socks underneath. “No yawning distress, or whatever? I assume you got the benefits coming in.”

“Yeah, your, uh – your mom is really nice? Like still. She said she would help me find a place.”

“A place? Oh.” Tom swallows hard in shock, because it almost sounds like Greg plans to… to stay in Minnesota? “Huh… You might want to watch that. Her taste leans toward art deco – Oh no, wait… that’s you.”

Greg breaks into a laugh, shaking his head and suddenly ducking it into his chest. His long-fingered hands flex against each other on the table, making it more tempting than ever to reach out and take them.

“There’s this… Frank Lloyd Wright service station, not far from here,” Tom says, unsure where he’s really pointing when he flicks his fingers toward the wall across from them, but it could be close to Cloquet. “It’s based on that sort of thing. You should go gawk.”

“Or, maybe, we do that when you get out?” Greg says, quietly, looking up under his brows with a small shrug. “It’ll like… you know, be better. You could tell me about it.”

“Yeah?” Tom swallows hard against a swell in his throat, heat blazing across the back of his neck. “I haven’t actually been there.”

“I bet it’s pretty cool,” Greg says, smiling back, flicking his fingers in a similar direction. “For like a – a gas station.”

“A service station, Greg, which goes the extra mile,” Tom says, raising his brows while leaning across the table with a hum. “Full service.”

“No, yeah,” Greg laughs, again, smiling wide, as he nods his head. “Sure.”

Tom takes another few seconds to stare, rudely indulging himself and prepared to blame his circumstances. It’s the prison that’s doing it – he’s just lost all his social graces. “So is… Mommy’s just dragging you around the Twin Cities?”

“Kind of?” Greg says, narrowing his eyes a bit with a wincing sort of smile. “She had me help do some shredding at her office yesterday, after we flew up? I think as, like, a joke?”

“Oh my god,” Tom mutters, rolling his eyes toward the windows and more than a bit exasperated, but not that all that surprised. “Don’t tell me that.”

“She said she’d pay me, actually,” Greg says, outright overeager, as he relays this baffling bit of news. “If I wanted a job? But I couldn’t tell if she was serious. She reminds me sort of, uh, of you, when she’s not like being my lawyer.”

“Embarrassing, right,” Tom says, scoffing through his nose with a weak laugh. “I’m glad you’re getting along.”

Greg sweeps his hair out of his face, again, smiling somewhat under his fingers. “Yeah, like… I’m glad, too.”

The conversation drifts, almost awkwardly, but not uncomfortably, like neither of them know what to say, but don’t want to leave. It goes on like that, anyway, until a CO breaks in with an announcement and Greg does straighten with a glance at the clock. It suddenly feels like it hasn’t been any time at all.

“So, I was looking – um, at the rules?” Greg says, lifting his head with a nod at the station behind Tom, though there isn’t any sign to that effect behind him. “And you get like unlimited time but only like eight total, right? Per month. So like I could split it with your family, or whatever, but that could be, like… two visits a week?”

“That is math, buddy,” Tom says, forcing himself to look up into Greg’s eyes while he raises his brows high up his forehead with forced levity. “You want to stick it out here that long?”

“Yeah, I – I mean if that’s okay?”

“Of course, Greg, I would love it, if you stayed, it’s just – ” Tom lowers his voice, making sure to put a taunting pull at his lips. “This is Minnesota. It’s dead boring.”

“I like lived in New Brunswick as a kid in the summers, you know?” Greg says, though Tom had certainly not known, but that’ll be an explanation asked for later. “It’s like way more boring.”

“But…” Tom rises out of his chair slower than Greg; no matter what Greg thinks he’s going to do, there’s a chance this is the last time Tom sees him. “…No hard feelings if you run back to New York, alright?”

“You totally would have a lot of them, Tom,” Greg disagrees, as a grin pulls somewhat mocking at his lips. “But I’m, like – I’m not going to. That’s why I’m here.”

“Sure,” Tom says, offering a shrug that he’s sure would look less stiff on a Buckingham Palace guard. “If you say so.”

“Like, it’s like… like how you wrote you’d have to go down to Florida?” Greg says, while his hands swing to briefly tap at either edge of his now-vacant chair. “If I ended up doing something that got me stuck down there longer. Remember? When I stole oatmeal. It was something like… you’d go down to Pensacola to give me a reason to keep on-target?”

Tom feels his eyes go wide, startled at the baldfaced mention of a, until now, gone unmentioned lack of subtlety on Tom’s part that should’ve been left that way out of politeness. “So what, Greg? You know that’s not just…” He reaches up and scratches at the heat bursting across his jaw, heart thumping heavily in his chest. “It’s not the same. That coming from me.”

“Or, uh…” Greg shrugs smally into a shoulder with another nod. “Maybe it is.”

Tom only barely manages a punched out breath: “Oh.”

“Uh… uh… anyway, I’ll be back Saturday,” Greg says, taking a hasty backward step and nodding, then looking down with a hitch when he nearly flattens someone’s kid. “With y-your mom, maybe?”

“Okay, buddy,” Tom says, lifting a hand to wave by rote. He drops it slowly back to his side, as Greg slips out the door behind some group of other visitors. He sighs hard through his nose, biting at the inside of his lip and muttering against it. “Fuck.”

“Hey, man,” Neal says, stage whispering from two tables over. He’s an insider trader with a rumored few hundred mil stashed away somewhere that everyone knows about, because he won’t shut up about it. “Was that rumor true about you two bumping uglies the whole damned time?”

“No,” Tom says, annoyed to hear his voice lift, as he keeps staring at the door and shoving down hard on the impulse to do something really stupid, like try to follow. “I was married.”

“Huh. You think I don’t hear that ‘was’?” Neal says, with a hum that leads into a quiet click of his tongue. “I will say this, man? He did not look that tall on the TV.”

“No?” Tom says, looking over with a sneer building across his lips.

“You two make each other look normal size,” Neal says, offering an unkind gesture with a back and forth sweep of his hand at two evident levels. “You have my endorsement. You got to be with someone who makes you look less like a freak.”

“Golly gee, thank you,” Tom says, flatly, rolling his eyes back to the door. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

A sharp clear of the throat comes from behind Tom. “Are we conspiring, gentleman?”

“With this guy? Our resumes don’t line up,” Neal scoffs, which is… insulting but sort of true, since he actually made money off trade schemes, while Tom fell on a sword and jammed another person on top of himself and it for good measure. “But did you see his boy? He could play for the Knicks.”

“I did see that,” Maria says, tilting her head in the same direction. “He didn’t look that tall on PGN.”

Neal raises his brows. “That’s what I’m saying.”

+

Tom folds the Funyuns bag, half and half over again, empty now after Greg offered it as the standard fare. “So you really like the work – are you looking into becoming the worlds largest paralegal?”

“The whole job is, you know, interesting, seeing it from the other side, but –” Greg leans forward, as his eyes go wide with a marked sparkle of excitement. “The – like, the best part is reading all the horrible things people did.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Oh god, your insatiable snoop monster is finally being sated.”

“I guess?” Greg says, sweeping his ever-growing hair behind both his ears with his hands. “The worst so far is this guy who admitted to your mom he totally burned up a company car, but she had to convince everyone it got stolen.”

“Wow,” Tom says, lowering his voice with a glance toward the observing CO utterly ignoring them. “Burned it?”

“I guess he was super unhappy at his job?” Greg says, with a small shrug of a single shoulder up against his ear. “I never would’ve done that – I like having stuff too much.”

Tom snorts hard, as he leans back away, grudgingly putting some space between them for his next question. “I know you do. Speaking of… How was your New Years thing? Aside for your scheduling issues.”

It probably didn’t go great, because no Roy function ever does, but there has to be some reason Greg came back to Minnesota, afterward, rather than sending Tom some Dear John about sticking it with them a second time. In fact, Tom had thought that was exactly what he was going to get until he got called up today, since Greg missed Saturday, so he’s just… more curious than ever.

“Oh, uh…” Greg sighs hard through his nose, slumping back in his seat. “It was… bad. I’ve never really seen my mom with them all, as like an adult? It – like, it was really uncomfortable. But Grandpa Ewan at one point, uh – He actually yelled at Uncle Logan for calling her a pill head, so that was, like. It was nice of him? But my mom still kind of cried.”

Tom presses his mouth together in a grimace; that sounds par for the course. “That sucks, bud.”

“I got some champagne, though, and brought it home,” Greg says, eyes flicking back to make contact with Tom, then a laugh breaks through his lips. “Your dad is funny – he thought like I’d get in trouble? But it wasn’t even like the most expensive stuff.”

Tom stares back for a beat, then slowly cocks his brows. “…You got my parents champagne?”

“I-I can get you some later,” Greg says, eager, wiggling forward on his seat and leaning into his elbows on the table with a wide look. “It’s like not until September. Or like, you can pick it out – I just took this off the table.”

“You’re such a delinquent, Greg,” Tom says, then swallows hard, as he realizes for the nth time, in a way that still feels just absolutely impossible, Greg seems to really be in Minnesota just for him. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Like, the same as usual? Hey, like,” Greg says, scratching up against the side of his nose with a thumb. “Do you think the champagne is like a heavier offense than the papers?”

Tom drops his head in a deep nod. “I think it would be to your family,” he says, affectedly flat and joyless.

“My mom like brought this extra big purse with a bunch of plastic baggies,” Greg says, waving down at his side with a gesture like he’s brought his own bag. “And she took like a bunch of food. She said it was for her book club.”

Tom tilts his head to a wide angle, then scoffs hard through his nose while lifting it back up. “I’ve never met your mother, but I like her, Greg.”

“The book club is more like a wine club,” Greg adds, looking up when the CO starts to make the announcement for the end of visiting hours. He rises from his chair with a stretch, back cracking like a broken zipper. “I used to have to pick her up? But now she uses like Uber and sometimes her friend, Brian.”

“That’s so funny,” Tom says, wrapping a hand around Greg’s nape, as he leans down for his now-customary hug. “You have a good week, okay?”

“I’m sorry I missed Saturday,” Greg says, his pout unambiguous against Tom’s neck while he speaks into it. “The stupid plane –”

Tom hums loud to interrupt, squeezing one last time before reluctantly letting go. “Hey, you were here today.”

+

Tom isn’t sure if he’s more anxious or less with Greg around, as his release date approaches with the quick passing of summer. He feels weight against his back, excited but crawling with uncertainty, as easily hundreds of good, bad, or ugly ways it could go build in the back of his head and he… He wants to know where he stands with Greg, but also he doesn’t want to know; the thing that makes him nearly lean up at every perfectly appropriate hug, sitting as it’s been so long under his ribs, almost scarier than any of the rest of it.

He never expected Greg to do more than uncomfortably put up with it, let alone start to… regularly imply some similar sentiment. The ambiguity of zero privacy spares him any real denial or confession. He can pretend forever that Greg really forgives him, or at least the actions, and will stand with him at the gate at the end of all this, if he never, ever asks.

“Yeah, but it’s like… we made it?” Greg says, sweeping his hand through his hair, then he offers the other to make a jazzy gesture. “Or, I did. You’ve got two months? It was – it sucked, a lot, and everything, but the, like… I think the working yourself up before it the first time was actually the worst part? To me. When you thought you’d end up in, like… Alcatraz.”

“Alcatraz is closed, first off, Gregory, and second, I’ve read it was mostly the island part that sucked. Whatever, yes, it’s done. …But I wish you’d had something to run off with, anyway,” Tom says, rolling his voice around the word with a low grumble. He gestures toward the decidedly denominational symbol hanging around the curtain rod at the window, smuggled in by some past visitor. “I’m not a Catholic, but there’s still some part of me that feels like I should have taken all this guilt upon myself like I promised to.”

“If it helps, I – I maybe did?” Greg says, wetting his lips, then dropping his shoulders with a shrug. “Have… something. But I decided not to use it.”

Tom stares for a few beats, mouth twisting downward, and when Greg doesn’t crack and admit to some terrible joke, he feels his hands curl into fists across the top of the table. “…You what?”

“Yeah, uh,” Greg shrugs, again, blinking rapidly and looking down, plainly not having expected to get this sort of response for his confession of heinous idiocy. “Um. You remember when we – We were at your like house – penthouse…? I… I recorded it on my phone.”

“Greg,” Tom says, hearing his voice bark, then forcing it back down into something lower like a hiss. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you use that?”

“Your mom said it probably wouldn’t matter? She might’ve – probably was lying, but –” Greg suddenly reaches across the table and sets his hand on top of Tom’s wound fist. “Now it – I think… I don’t know. I’d rather just be happy that I’m here like this an-and with you now, than… wonder if I had used it? If I wouldn’t be.”

Tom stares for a few beats, suffering a brief, horrible wash of anger at his mother. “Greg –”

Greg shakes his head, fingertips scrambling at the edge of Tom’s turned-down hand. “I dunno, Tom, shit sorta happens?” He continues, his voice lowering, almost breaking, “Like… like how none of this would’ve happened, at all, if I hadn’t told Gerri ab-about your press conference plan an-and then lied to you about it.”

Tom stares and feels his eyes narrow, then widen, as his whole expression threatens to collapse; he’s angry, so angry, but it wanes almost all at once when he sees Greg is… trying so hard to blame himself for some reason. He shakes his head and looks down, pulling his hand from underneath Greg’s by widely spreading his fingers.

Greg makes a tight, pained noise, almost soundless.

Tom finishes the action to wind their fingers together, palm to palm, to put himself in a more active grip. He’s… upset, yeah, but he’s suspected this for a while; he suspected Greg telling a lot of people about a lot of things that were just too convenient, but he was just as bad. “Okay, Greg, don’t… get so worked up. You’re not that big of a snake. That’s why I’m so mad you didn’t slither out of this – you’re usually smarter.”

Greg takes a wet breath. “But I –”

Tom tightens both his hands around Greg’s one, squeezing around the knuckles. “Don’t start. You’d been working in the corporate environment not even a month, baby, and I can’t remember giving you a single reason to trust me.”

Greg takes a sharp breath, lifting his eyes and mouth dropping open, but he still doesn’t speak until seconds later: “Ne-neither did Gerri.”

“She was the closest thing you knew to a lawyer,” Tom says, tilting his head with a flat, sarcastic smile. “Too bad she’s probably even more biased and self-serving than the rest of us.”

“Maybe… yeah. Like, with Roman, she – ” Greg looks up with a start, as a shadow falls somehow indifferently over their table.

“I want to preface this by saying none of the comments by Officer Carlos were homophobic,” Maria says, pointing over her shoulder at the markedly ducking CO that’s been shadowing her for a few weeks. “He had me concerned because you look like you’re fighting, but now I’m here and it’s more a crying situation. Are we having a problem, gentlemen?”

“No, ma’am,” Greg says, ducking his head with evident mortification. “No-not at all. I can’t really cry with witnesses, actually.”

Tom flattens his lips with a shake of his head at Greg, then up at Maria, who’s now giving Greg the hairy eyeball. He squeezes Greg’s hand one last time before letting it go. “We’re just praying for our sins.”

“Inmate Wambsgans,” Maria says, turning her condescending look toward toward him with a bizarrely uncanny rock of her head. “Do you even know where chapel is?”

Tom stares Maria down for a solid beat, then lifts his hand with a point and a crooked smirk. “It’s the same place where I meet my counselor.”

Maria raises an unamused brow. “You got me there.” She nods down at the table. “The time ends in twenty minutes. You better apologize quick, eh?”

“Ten-four,” Tom says, sunnily, dropping his arm to smack at the table with an exaggerated gesture and very light tap.

Later, once the announcement officially goes out to part ways that afternoon, Tom presses his lips lightly across Greg’s jaw, hiding it inside the hug; it earns him a tight squeeze almost to the point of asphyxia.

====

Greg cranes his head up at the station, leaning against the hood of the car behind him. He looks like he’s actually judging it, which is pretty funny, since his amateur interest began with a Parducci documentary he watched on a flight to Scotland. He’d gotten Minneapolis and Detroit confused, then been irked when Tom didn’t know about all the buildings in this city that he’d visited once on a hockey trip.

“You don’t have to write an essay on it,” Tom says, flatly, keeping one eye on Greg and the other on the mechanic in the open bay. It would be just his luck to get a trespassing call an hour after his release. “You’re not going to be graded on if you like a tacky gas station in a town that’s only other claim to fame is Jessica Lange.”

“It’s got a – ” Greg takes a breath, gesturing back and forth with flailing, turning palms. “A lot of angles.” He looks over at Tom, raising his brows with a short lean inward. “Did you know they built this – uh, fake one sort of the same in Buffalo, recently?”

Tom stares for a beat, taking in Greg’s eager, bright face, then leans up and kisses him across the mouth. He figures if Greg shoves him, he can just blame the surprise that way, in his own head, rather than the much slimmer, but very present, chance of disgust. He ends up being the one surprised, when Greg hums deeply, all of a sudden weighing heavy on Tom’s shoulder with an arm wrapping around his neck. It even makes him forget the mechanic, who’s hopefully not a total dick.

“I, um – ” Greg stutters, moments later, a smile cutting across his face while he goes on to shake his head. “It’s maybe not that great, Tom? The one in – uh, in the museum is all copper.”

Tom yanks at Greg gently by the coat lapels, listening to a resulting sputtered laugh, and tightens his voice up somewhat more cartoonish, maybe like how he’d scold a baby. “You just prove over and over you can’t appreciate these nice things I give you.”

[bluegamerchick]

I think this will be my first FNAF post on this blog? (i think)

But, ya’ll calling Monty a Florida man.

Nah, he’s a down right Cajun gator, who if he wasn’t under Vanny’s control would be calling Gregory his Bon ami and trying to carry the kid on his shoulders while Freddy freaks out and thinks Monty is gonna drop him. 

tl;dr: Monty is a Cajun gator and I will die on this hill

[witchysolfan]

People see Monty and either pick Cajun or Florida Man, because Gator

I just laugh because Monty has a Mohawk and honestly Florida Man is more accurate than Cajun with this gator. Adufifog I honestly see him as a lovable rockstar ADHD dumbass. He means well but sometimes brain goes BRRRRRRRRR wanna PUNCH something BRRRRRRR RUN JUMP

honestly let him do parkour to get all of that energy out.

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

~Some good ol’ headcanons for my boy Texas~

⚠️mentions of SH, drinking, child abuse, death⚠️

=======================================================================

-daddy issues daddy issues daddy issues-

-Tex is half-Mexican (his father) and half-Puerto Rican (his mother)

-he speaks Spanish, French, and German and has no problem switching between each one

-since he speaks French, and has his own Cajuns, he is literally the only one that is able to understand what Louisiana is talking about

-definitely a secret Swiftie and hell will freeze over before he tells anybody that

-you cannot tell me that this man isn’t an ambivert. Like- he loves people and he’s great with people, but he also enjoys his alone time and can get New York-level awkward in social situations

-he has a drinking problem and used to have a smoking problem, but stopped.

-he is definitely either Loui’s big brother figure or his mother figure (I say mother because he is also the mom friend and makes mother-like fusses and sh*t)

-if you put ANY animal in front of him, he will freak out a little bit and pet it whilst commenting on how cute and precious the animal is. Whenever he and Alaska hang out, he will be petting his dogs every single chance he gets

-in terms of a fight or flight response, he has a fight response. Well- more like you could spook him, and he will swing at you with whatever he has in his hands (or just with his bare hands) and you are going to get hit if you don’t dodge quick enough.

One time Nevada decided to be mischievous and scare the crap out of Texas by grabbing him from behind while he was cutting veggies with a very big kitchen knife and nearly got put on a T-shirt. R.I.P Nevada’s soul that nearly left his body that day.

-Texas sees both Georgia and Kentucky as father figures since his own father sucked (they aren’t dating, but they are the fathers of the south)

(HERE’S SOME ANGSTY SH*T FOR Y’ALL-)

-Texas’s father (Mexico) was an absolute piece of sh*t and abused him both physically and mentally. He also killed Tex’s mother when he was like- 8 years old.

-he hurts himself, but has been trying to stop since Geo, Florida and Loui found out

-during that one winter where Texas and Louisiana both froze over, Texas refused to ask for any help, and kept insisting that he was fine and didn’t need help. He kept saying that he wasn’t in any type of pain, when it was quite obvious that he was in a lot of pain. Tex was friggin’ cold to the touch and sometimes, he would see a small patch of frost or ice on his arm or something, which he would go to the bathroom and pull off. That led to him having MULTIPLE cuts/scratches all over his arms and torso by the time winter was over and it was starting to get warm again.

-sometimes Gov has to go to international meetings and bring a state with him, so when it was Texas’s turn, he would hide behind Gov like a shy child whenever they were somewhere where Mexico was. He doesn’t care what toxic masculinity says, if he is in a room with that b*stard, he will be hiding behind the nearest person he knows as if he was a scared kitten.

-he has frequent panic attacks, but not a lot of the others know that, because they usually happen when he’s alone, but there have been times that they happened while the others were around.

-he uses drinking as a coping mechanism for his PTSD, and it kinda concerns the others that care deeply about him whether they would like to admit it or not.

(Aight angst is over)

-So he and Cali have swapped clothes before or have at least mixed their clothes up before, and despite them both being the same height (6’4), surprisingly Cali’s clothes were kinda big on him. The reason for that is because I imagine Cali to be a lil’ more on the muscular/buff side, and whilst Texas is also fairly muscular, he’s a bit more on the leaner/lankier side.

-he 100% owns a "Keep Austin Weird" shirt

-he still has his mother’s dress, and just wears it sometimes when he is alone. And he absolutely SLAYS in that dress, part of the reason being the fact that he looks almost EXACTLY like his mother

=======================================================================

NOW TAKE SOME INCORRECT QUOTES AND SH*T THAT I CAME UP WITH-

(Also, this first one is just platonic Kentucky/Georgia, they ain’t dating or anything, though people often think that they are since they tend to act like an old healthily married couple)

=============================

(Texting Georgia)

Tex: uhhh… hey Geo?

Georgia: Yea?

Tex: Now don’t be mad….-

Geo: What did you do?

Tex: ME? I didn’t do anything-

Geo: Really?

Tex: Really!!

Geo: *sigh* What happened?

Tex: How on God’s green earth do ya sigh through text-

Geo: Answer the d*mn question.

Tex: Ok ok geez- So long story short, me and Ken went to a bar-

Geo: What did Ken do?

Tex: Will ya let me fini-feghkrsghurkdyvrsk-

Geo: Tex?!

Tex: Sorry nearly got hit by a chair ���

Geo: I’M SORRY WHAT?!

Tex: Yea so long story short Ken may or may not have gotten into a bar fight…?

Geo: EXCUSE ME?!

Tex: Yeah…. Hehe….LIUDLSEJGFKIDGXE,FIDXM-

Geo: ??

Tex: F*CK THERE’S COPS-

Geo: It is too early for this….. Are ya hurt??

Tex: Yea but nothin’ too bad. Just a busted lip that’s been bleedin’ for the past 5 minutes is all.

Geo: *sigh* Welp. Y’all better get your *$$es home right now and come to my room.

Tex: Yes sir.

~~~When they got home~~~

Geo: WHAT WERE YOU THINKIN’?! Ya started a bar fight?!

Ken: Now now- the idiot shouldn’t have started runnin’ his big mouth.

Geo: *hands Tex a piece of gauze for his lip* Here Tex, hold it down on yer lip til’ it stops bleedin’. Now KENTUCKY- that was no reason to punch the guy (the guy that Ken was fighting, not Tex)-

*Ken and Geo arguing*

Tex: *just sitting there with a piece of gauze in his mouth and flask of whiskey watching Ken get lectured like a child that stole a cookie from the cookie jar*

===================================================================

Cali, being nosy: Where are you going? 


Tex: Hell, eventually.

=======================================================================

Some jack-wagon at the bar: Hey, are you free? 


Tex: No, I’m expensive.

=======================================================================

Someone: So what are your political beliefs? 


Tex, awkwardly: Well, I think Pikachu would be a lot more powerful if he had a gun-

=======================================================================

Tex: Everything will be ok. You can not stop it. 


Tex: Everything will be fine. You have no choice. 


Geo: What the he// kinda pep talk is that? 


Tex: Ominous positivity.

=======================================================================

Loui: Am I in trouble? 


Tex, after finding out that Loui has not been sleeping enough lately: Take a guess. 


Loui: No? 


Tex: *sigh* Take another guess.

=======================================================================

Loui, T-posing in the doorway: Greetings, Traumatized Mother-figure. 


Tex, not looking up from his coffee: Good morning, problem child.

=======================================================================

Tex, coughing slightly: Calm down, I’m probably not sick. It might just be allergies. 


Mass: Yea I’ve heard that one before…. Okay, tell me this: are you like, really tired? 


Tex: I have depression, what do you think?

=======================================================================

[gamer-logic]

Since my state, Georgia, is having the annual Peaches to Beaches event which is two days of statewide yard sales, I thought it would be interesting to show how America, the states, and any other countries wanting to participate both 1p and 2p would be during this event. So here you go!

Georgia is happily selling fresh produce like boiled peanuts and Vidalia onions and peach-based deserts. Her homemade peach cobbler and ice cream are to die for!

Antonio (Spain) also sells many fresh tomatoes, olives, and other vegetables. He doesn't understand why no one wants his Olive Juice though.

Hawaii and Alaska make a killing selling lemonade at their stand with a free complimentary handmade flower crown with every purchase. While using their sheer cuteness to attract everyone including one of those sweet biker gangs. It's really surreal to see a huge gang of buff, tattooed, tough-looking guys in leather wearing flower crowns and drinking lemonade. Allen's also there to supervise and ward of creep. Also, to provide people more 'incentive' to buy their lemonade.

Texas breaks out the Texas BBQ and is in a Barbecuing turf war with Jett (Australia). They draw huge crowds for the five-alarm chili as well and hold a competition who can eat the most without burning out their tongues and/or passing out.

Florida sells some of the weirdest stuff you'll ever see. "Want a full-scale model of a gator made entirely out of bottle caps? Only ten bucks! Want a portrait of Florida Man painted with orange juice? 15 bucks!"

Nevada also tries to sell weird and sketchy stuff to scam everyone. "This piece is the genuine article folks! One napkin gently used by Elvis Presley himself! Just 500 bucks! Also, gets into a haggling war with Lars (Netherlands). Somewhere Alfred's dad instincts go off and he reminds himself to ground Nevada.

California, Oregon, and Washington collaborate and California sells anything vegan or made with avocadoes and the autographs of Hollywood stars, Oregon sells his old tye-dyed shirts and records, they also made him sell his old groovy hippy bus from the sixties he'd never got rid of no one knew they had. Oregon can be a bit of a hoarder, so they had to tie him to a chair and gag him because he wouldn't surrender the bus without a fight. Washington also tries to sell and drink cups of coffee, but in the hot Southern heat, this doesn't end well.

Louisiana sells anything Cajun-style from frog legs to fresh gumbo, to beignets. Also has a full collection of Mardi Gras masks and shrunken voodoo heads on sale for two bucks a pop.

Gilbert (Prussia) gets tricked by Nevada and gets a ton of stupid things he doesn't need. Ludwig (Germany) tries unsuccessfully to keep him on a metaphorical leash.

Ludwig always checks the quality of things he sees and buys dog toys and supplies for Blackie, Berlitz, and Astor. Later, he actually buys a kiddie leash for Gilbert.

All the while Lutz (2p! Germany) is asleep in a lawn chair with his hat on his face after drinking like six cold beers from this really good booth. All the while, Klaus (2p! Prussia) finds an antique Teutonic Knights flag from a vendor whose family was from Germany.

Vash (Switzerland) buys antique guns from Alabama and Roderich (Austria) also checks out some of Tennessee's guitars. He's horrified upon seeing Alabama's banjo and washboard.

Mathew (Canada) and Emma (Belgium) combine their powers and tag team to sell the best pancakes and waffles on earth with genuine Canadian maple syrup.

New York sells tons of baseball memorabilia and collectibles. Allen, trying to save his bad-boy image, tries to be discreet when buying some while taking Hawaii and Alaska around to get something with their lemonade money. James also gets some hockey memorabilia with Michigan and Minnesota who also got snow cones.

Alaska and Hawaii see a giant deluxe dollhouse but are almost in tears when they don't have enough money. But they end up getting it for free because no one can resist their weaponized puppy dog eyes. Also, no one can resist a growling Allen. Using the leftover money, they buy cute little rainbow umbrella hats for everyone and have Allen wear one who begrudgingly accepts it.

James, walking by with an armful hockey gear and flannel shirts, bursts out laughing when he sees this. In revenge, Allen forces him to wear one too and help him carry the dollhouse, much to Hawaii and Alaska's delight! "I said go my way puck head!" "No, it's my way, you vegan loving hoser!" A passing Francis (France)' is in stylish horror when they also make him and a nonchalant Luis (2p! France), holding a case of vintage wines, wear them too. Hawaii and Alaska go around giving umbrella hats to everyone including a sleeping Lutz they pass by.

Loving (Romano) practically has to supervise Feliciano (Italy) and keep him from buying anything too stupid on impulse or get scammed. They still end up with stacks upon stacks of cookbooks, kitchen wear, and a Mona Lisa made entirely out of Macaroni. They also get umbrella hats.

Flavio (2p! Romano) browses through clothing racks to get ideas for his vintage line. Also checks out the handmade fabrics like quilts. "Such craftsmanship! This pattern is so unique and chic! I simply must have it! What's your price Bella?" The nice old woman selling the quilt just smiles, "Oh just about five dollars young man." "Perfect!" Flavio hands the quilts off to Andreas (2p! Spain) who's practically buried underneath the fabric. Luciano (2p! Italy) facepalms while holding a new knife set in its case. "Oooh! Look at those adorable hats I just have to have one." Cue three more umbrella hats and a humiliated Luciano. "Just kill me now..."

Katyusha (Ukraine), Elizaveta (Hungary), Lillie (Liechtenstein), Natalya, (Belarus), Katya( 2p! Ukraine) and Anastasia (2p! Belarus), and Michelle (Seychelles) explore with armfuls of clothes, new ribbons, and a gun case for Switzerland (Lillie), cast iron frying pans (Elizaveta, watch out Prussia!), farm tools (Katyusha), Jewelry and unmentionables (Katya), dresses (Anastasia), an assortment of switchblades (Natalya), and one of those singing fish on a plague (Michelle). It's definitely an interesting group.

Kiku (Japan) and Kuro (2p! Japan) find a nerd booth selling comics, manga, and Japanese weapons like katanas. Kuro test swings a blade and tries to slice the table so hard it breaks the blade, "Hmmm, not sharp enough for me, got anything else?" He throws it on the pile of broken blades he's already tested. Kiku stockpiles on limited-edition manga and he and the vendor end up getting into a huge, heated by Kiku standards, debate on who's waifu is best. Further down, Alfred reads every Marvel/DC comic while keeping an ear out on every state's location. He checks on Texas via his glasses and notices he's beating Australia in the chili contest. "That's my boy!"

Wisconsin wearing a cheese head sells anything cheese-based. He's got cheddar, goat cheese, string cheese, cheese spray, gorgonzola, grilled cheese, cheese curds, Mac n' Cheese, cheese sculptures of all world monuments, you name it he's got it! He also starts a war with Iowa's corn dishes and Idaho's potato dishes. They eventually end up flinging cheese, potatoes, and corn after they start dissing each other's foods. "Take this cheese brain!" "Nice aim, I-da-ho!" "I told you not to call me that!" "I'm gonna go children of the corn on y'all's behinds!" Poor Nebraska is stuck in the middle.

Alfred (America) hears the commotion and using his parent radar, immediately knows who it is and reminds himself to ground Iowa, Wisconsin, and Idaho later along with Nevada who, though still grounded for sure, makes him feel a little proud of since he managed to out haggle Netherlands.

New Mexico and Arizona also sell Native American handicrafts along with things like dreamcatchers and giant inflatable aliens. While Delaware, being the boring stick in the mud that he is, walks by with a framed and complete U.S. quarter collection from a vendor.

Kansas sells out of every sunflower she had courtesy of Ivan (Russia). Ivan and her the team up to buy out every sunflower seed from here to kingdom come. Viktor (2p! Russia) buys all the vodka he can find and a new shovel while Xiao (2p! China) tries giving people tattoos for 10 bucks a pop.

He tries to convince Yao (China) to get a hello kitty one to match the giant plushie he's holding, with the encouragement of Leon (Hong Kong) and Yong Soo (South Korea) who all collectively agree he needs to quit being such a grandpa. They also like calling him an antique-like the items on sale. " Aiyah! I'm not that old, aru!" "Yeah, you are Sensei." "Don't deny it! Da Ze!" Respect your elders!" "Tattoos originated in Korea da ze!" He totally is that old.

Oliver (2p! England) holds a bake sale and has people lined up for blocks to get some. Arthur (England), after having his scones shut down after it poisoned some unlucky squirrels, fries selling authentic magical items like unicorn hair or pixie dust. Everyone thinks he's a little crazy but he did sell a good bit of old magic books he needed to get out of his house, after making sure no one could actually use them of course.

The Nordics also went perusing for antique and handmade furniture when Mathias (Denmark) spots two full sets of Viking costumes and tries to get Lukas (Norway) to try them on with him. Lukas wasn't amused.

Berwald (Sweden) and Tino (Finland) also find a great handmade table to get after inspecting the workmanship and a full Lego set for Peter (Sealand), now if only Mathias would stop squealing like a little kid at the full piece lego death star. Emil (Iceland) keeps thinking he's the mature one until he spots a mini top hat and cane for Mr. Puffin.

In the end, everyone ends up wearing umbrella hats courtesy of Hawaii and Alaska, loving all the strange things they bought or counting the profits they made. Alfred (America) is proud of his kids and visits everyone one of their stands. He ends up looking pretty funny with an umbrella hat (HW, AK), a washboard, (AL),a picture of Florida Man, (FL), a balloon alien (NM, AZ), a tye dye shirt (CA, WA, OR), hockey stick shaped glasses (MN, MI), a giant stack of comics with a replica Thor hammer and Captain America shield on his back, all in a shopping cart (NV), and a giant turkey leg in his hand (Tx). Unsurprisingly, it was a tie between Oliver, Texas, and Australia for who earned the most with their food. Georgia just smiled as this was another great year for her state and people!