#i'm creative alcoholic

[whumpbug]

okay okay okay so I held back on this one because I asked alternate already BUT. can you put Gene and Cassidy in a sci-fi story. what would they wear what are their roles do you have scene snippets or dialog? sci-fi is my favorite thing ever and as always feel free to ignore if this isn't the vibe!!! i love you bug /p!!!!!

OHOHOHOHOHHOH SETH I LOVE U /P

i am all for a sci-fi vibe. even if star wars is TECHNICALLY a space opera, i love love love the space setting and i would be DELIGHTED to talk about it.

im gonna word vomit on the page first and them ill try my hand at a few drabbles in this au. strap in for ANOTHER very long post. THANK U AGAIN SETH I LOVE UR ASKS I TRULY CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF THEM /GEN

okay so. since i'm only really well-versed in star wars sci-fi concepts, this is going to be a vaguely star wars inspired au but i'll try to phrase it in a way thats more applicable to sci-fi in General (its always so fun to translate their jobs and personalities into different settings)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

we'll start with gene. idk why but i'm getting very much a bounty hunter vibe from him. like someone who maybe works for a larger organization or guild hunting down notorious criminals (i mention that he works for an Entity bc i think its sort of important that he doesnt choose his bounties himself. he gets them assigned)

i think he would still do it out of a sense of responsibility because he doesn't think bad people should just be running around like that, but also because. a man's gotta make a living. he's gotta pay the bills.

i can see him having his own little ship that he practically lives out of considering how much he travels, and i feel like he'd get very attached to his ship (much like calliope. sorry calliope you've become a spaceship in this au)

OMG AND ALSO A THOUGHT IS BEING BEAMED INTO MY HEAD.

he wears a mask. you can't see his face when he's out doing jobs. he conceals his face, partially because he doesn't want people to see when hes scared or smug or anything like that and partially for the Swag.

that brings me to his overall outfit. i believe in my heart of hearts that gene would wear something like this (i wish i could credit the artist but i couldnt find it)

except instead of an entire helmet, it would be more of just a black piece of cloth pulled loosely over his mouth and nose. and im also seeing him in a very wide brimmed hat that he can tilt down to Brood pls tell me you guys see the vision.

he'd have a little revolver-looking blaster and knowing him, it'd be set to stun. i don't think he really enjoys bringing people in cold, and does his best to avoid it when he can

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

OK now onto cassidy. my beautiful darling boy silver. my sweetiepie.

it was kind of difficult to translate his profession into this setting because. it involves more people other than him.

ultimately i decided that, similar to the modern au, he is a part of an underground business, kind of like a rebellion of sorts, that fight against the injustices of the galaxy robin-hood style. of course, montana is the leader (unfortunately) and cassidy is essentially his right hand man

i can see cassidy traveling planet to planet, dismantling corrupt governments, providing for the needy, and having an absolute blast doing it, but his methods are. very illegal. and there is a growing bounty on his head.

nearly every major government wants specifically him locked away for life because of the destruction he's caused, and of course they hire the very best bounty hunter around to track him down.

and of course cassidy is a slippery fellow

cue their little cat and mouse thing they've got going on. gene wants to catch him because if he does, he'd practically be set for life. cassidy runs away because, well. he has a job to do. he can't get caught, especially by the weirdly attractive masked dude that talks to his spaceship.

and lastly, here is what i think cassidy's fit would vaguely look like:

he loves ponchos he can't help it. they're too comfy.

he too would have a little revolver-blaster thing and of course, his knife and hat. one thing that it different is the stolen jewelry. i decided that instead of stealing jewelry from the awful people, he takes mechanical/droid parts for his little buddy that he keeps around named SC-071-1 (haha. ahaha get it. please tell me someone gets it.)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

OK ONTO THE DRABBLES AND SNIPPETS! you get 3 because im feeling Generous /pos. here in the first little snippet for you. this is the two meeting in a bar and not wanting to make a scene (gene tracked him there) (i just wanted to write a silly tense scene)

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Cassidy heard Gene before he saw him.

The man was always stomping around in a way no one could quite replicate. His footsteps were deliberate, cold, and unmistakable.

And they were right behind him.

The business end of a blaster was suddenly pressed into Cassidy's ribs and his mouth went dry.

"I'll have a Jet Juice. On the rocks."

Gene tossed the bartender a coin, to which he grumbled indignantly and began on the drink.

Cassidy risked a sideways glance at the bounty hunter. His expression was unreadable and hidden as always, and he didn't even turn to look at Cassidy. Instead, Gene leaned close and spoke lowly into his ear.

"Make a scene and you're dead. Try to run and you're dead. Turn on your comm and you're dead. Am I clear?"

Cassidy smirked, and mocked a salute. "Loud 'n clear, sir."

Gene gave a curt nod and turned to the bar. The bartender slid him his drink, which he downed in one go, and he was just about to order another when--

He sputtered when he felt something pressed into a certain.. important area. He blanched.

"Didn't say anything about fightin' fire with fire, did you, cowboy?" Cassidy grinned. The sight of the big bad bounty hunter squirming because his family jewels were threatened never got old.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

DRABBLE 2 HERE WE GO. this one is gene finding cassidy after a mission gone sour. cassidy was effectively abandoned by montana with the promise that he would come back for him.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The whole mission was a bust from the beginning.

Cassidy should have known. He had a gut feeling-- that it was some sort of trap specifically designed for the organization. When he brought it up to Montana, he said that it was just Cassidy being paranoid. And, of course, he believed him. He always did

And now, there he was, beaten within an inch of his life and left to the elements by the government higher-ups.

They really didn't like people messing with their system.

Cassidy took a labored breath for what felt like the millionth time. Each time it was getting harder. His arms were pinned awkwardly above his head and to fill his lungs, he had to pull himself up. It quickly became exhausting.

The worst part was the cold. Montana had mentioned that this planet's average temperature was a little below what Cassidy was used to, but he didn't mention that the city they were infiltrating was located near the northern pole of the planet.

It was freezing.

Cassidy had long since stopped shivering.

He let his head loll forward. He wasn't sure he had the strength to wait for Montana anymore. He wasn't sure he had the strength for anything anymore. Even keeping his eyes open seemed a monumental task.

So, he let them fall shut.

••••

When he woke up, it was because he registered his center of gravity tilting on it's axis.

There was a body pressed against his. And it was warm.

If he had any remaining strength, he would have clung to his rescuer like there was no tomorrow. Instead, he settled for letting his head fall against the person's chest as he let out a pitiful whine.

A hand chafed up and down his shoulder. "Just relax. We'll get you warm. Don't you dare try to run off, Silver."

He wouldn't dream of it. Not when he could feel himself melting to putty in the arms of this stranger.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

LAST DRABBLE it's gene's turn. in this au he has spasthma (space asthma) and sometimes it hinders his job in Not good ways. and cassidy isn't heartless.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Cassidy really wasn't thinking when he threw the smoke bomb. All he knew was that the damned bounty hunter was catching up and he needed to throw him off.

He did not expect him to fall to his knees with a guttural coughing fit.

It would have been so easy to leave him there to rot, to hop in his ship and escape without looking back.

But when did Cassidy ever take the easy way out?

"Shit," He hissed, darting back to where Gene was kneeled with a palm supporting him on the ground.

He was clutching at his chest, choked gasps leaving him intermittently. His eyes looked vaguely panicked.

"C-Can't--" He wheezed, getting cut off by another coughing fit. He looked as if he was about to topple over.

Cassidy caught him by the arm and dragged him away from the busy street. He propped him up against an wall tucked into an alleyway and began rummaging around in his bag.

One of the younger kids with the Montana's crew had the same condition with all the same symptoms Gene was having right now. The kid was pretty forgetful, and Cassidy always made sure he had an extra rebreather on him. Just in case.

Gene was going to owe him big time.

His fingers finally grazed what he was looking for and he yanked it out, fumbling to get it open. He shook the small canister and pressed it to Gene's lips.

"You have to puff. Just try, okay? Just a little." Cassidy grabbed Gene's hand and placed it on his chest, exaggerating his own breathing to show him what to strive for.

Gene hiccuped slightly before taking a flimsy inhale. He breathed out and tried at it again, and found it gradually got easier.

When he could finally take a deep breath, he collapsed against the wall, panting. His hand didn't leave Cassidy's chest.

"Thank-- thank you," He whispered.

Cassidy smiled.

"Does this mean I get a headstart now?"

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

SETH thank you SO VERY MUCH for this ask and this au. i think i may like it more than their original au GOD i love them so so so much FHDJKFH. thank u for the requests and as always PLS dont be afraif to send more if the mood striked you but no pressure ofc! /gen

hope you enjoy my rambling bc this post was LONGGGGG

[musical-chick-13]

My God. Does anyone knows when it stops hurting. Does anyone know how to stop feeling like this.

[crmsnmth]

I Think I'm Ready Now

It's a quarter past three and everyone else has found their way back home They're probably all comfy in their beds nestled into nests made of blankets I stumble along the bike trail on the river as they all lay dreaming

I don't like dreaming anymore So I drown them with liter bottles and two fingers in the glass Don't give me any ice I'll drink it neat, and that's the only thing I've got

I don't fear when I see another person What are they going to do? Take the four dollars I have left? Stab and leave me to die? I really couldn't care less I'm drunk enough to be sure that I'm ready to die and I'd probably say the same thing sober

But it wasn't even a person Just bushes and trees in great shadow play

[mydarlingdearestdead]

Dawson and Jude. Third Person. TW: Alcohol/Alcoholism.

"I was... Looking for myself." Dawson smirked, "Don't think you'd understand that."

Jude laughed, their disbelief frozen before the opportunity arose to grasp their features.

They began, "You know..." And hesitated, "...That's just your reflection in the bottom of the whisky bottle."

Dawson shrugged, brandishing in his right hand a red wine bottle. It, too, had been drained to the dregs. Dawson threw it into the tall grass by the hedges.

"There's always more bottles."

[springtimebat]

The Great Hitokui "Hollow-Space" (A Short Poem)

It’s what you call that empty chasm

Hurting you, grinding you down

Twisting and snarling, right in the middle of your belly

Your uncle numbs himself silly on alcohol?

He hits the seedy places on the edge of town?

He wastes his nights at the Sugar Sweet Motel

Chasing sugar sweet hights?

Between the thighs of those naughty bunnies

Our School warns us about?

He is a wreck of a neighbor, naturally

Because of his own “hollow-space”

The bricks of his anatomy long to serve 

Placate his tummy growls

The profuse ache we must all learn to temper 

By exchanging sugar for communion

But don’t worry 

One day, if we’re lucky, the elders say

The wormhole growing deep inside 

Will make your uncle-house, that pitiable structure

Collapse in, guts seasoned by vice

Exploding out onto the sidewalk, leaving him painless always

Won’t that be fun? 

[bane-of-technology]

The Unicorn Mojito

- 1.5oz mango-chile rum (bacardí)

- 3oz limeade

- 1/2c frozen mango (cubed)

- mint leaves (muddled, to taste)

blend until smooth, finish with a topping of seltzer

In Cup:

- edible glitter (any color)

- rim edge with rainbow sugar

[statementlou]

We are incredibly excited to announce that @zayn has join Mixoloshe as co-owner and Chief Creative Officer!

Follow the link in bio to purchase his signature Lychee Martini or use our store finder to pick it up at a @walmart near you.

Welcome, Zayn! ❤️❤️❤️

[soultoken-archived]

john?

he shivers, pulling the coat stronger on himself. all the alcohol in his veins almost made him forget to be outside in the middle of the winter night, but now he's starting to feel it again. his liquor stained breath condenses in the chilling air, looking like the smoke he can't have because he ran out of cigarettes. it's freezing. but he's not moving. his eyes wander up, to the apartment he's been sitting in front of. his old apartment. their old apartment.

johnny...

a silhouette moves behind the curtains. maybe someone going for a glass of water, maybe it's just his own imagination. or maybe a ghost. but who or whatever that is, it has the same silhouette of des. it stands near the window for a moment, stretches. then it's gone. maybe they got back to bed. like he used to do, when john would call him, sleepily lying there after the only truly restful nights of his life. he would call him, and des would lie down again, just a little longer. just for him. but john didn't do the same. no, he had to sacrifice the only man he truly cared about to save his stupid, pathetic life.

you drank again, didn't you?... i know. don't worry. i know it's not easy to stop. but you promised me, johnny.

he realizes he's crying only when he feels his tears getting colder in the freezing air. why did he think he could handle a normal life with des? why did he think he could even remotely have a right for such a life? to try and take it, he ended up taking des' too, and they both lost them. if only he could stay away from him, if only he could stop lying to himself, saying stupid things like i can do this, i can live with him, everything will be okay, everything will get fixed, des would still be his own person, he would be free. and instead, he had to try and take it. the normal life. the life that he was never meant to have. and he just can't stop hearing his voice, now.

don't worry. i'll help you. you'll do better next time.

and he's always so kind. so extremely kind. and he doesn't deserve it. he doesn't deserve him. he never did.

you promised me, johnny.

but i can't keep any promise.

[colinlegameboy]

Cope

Mix up the drink with the gin and the tonic

Mix up the sounds of my words as the phonics

Slip from my brain with the rest of the knowledge

Fuck up my life like a frat boy in college

Stuffing my facehole to drown out the sadness

Don’t want my thoughts on my life, utter madness

Gaining more weight and the pain never leaves

At least in this moment I get some reprieve

Lay down in bed, hands on a controller

Get a headshot, feel like a high roller

The hard world outside of this doesn’t exist

I don’t even care if I injure my wrist

I’m such a hot mess, this is all that I have

My liver is dying, and fat fills my calves

At least in the moment I feel ok

I don’t really mind if I’m carried away

[scratchandplaster]

Sometimes I look into my prompt list and see the wildest things. What do these ideas even mean?! I'm sure they made sense to me at one point:

Boat whump

Noir alcoholism

M&M conditioning

Animal Carewhumper

[earthytzipi]

the mask

it would almost be funny, if it wasn’t so pathetic.

you have to reclaim your body inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter, the needle buzzing its way into your ears and never fully leaving. not really. you end up itching for more. as though, somehow, seeing your skin slowly replaced with colors and designs makes up for the years of blankness.

blankness. just another word for emptiness. just another word for being a snarl in the seamless fabric of the world, something that the weaver intends to root out, snap, and reattach invisible. 

so you put neon signs on yourself. so you show the world precisely who you are, etched several layers deep, colorful roots replacing the beige warp. and then you wake up and you’re not a teenager anymore and you realize you don’t actually know who that is. living has been a protest for so long you don’t recognize your own face.

it would almost be funny, if it wasn’t so pathetic.

staring at yourself in the mirror is almost too painful, even without the dizzying effect of someone else’s pupils meeting your own. the ants are back, crawling up and down your spine, carbonating your stomach, and you only know one way to calm them down, so you reach for it. it burns on its way down your throat, but after, it’s just blissful numbness.

you know it’s not good for you, but standing in the kitchen at midnight, feet cold on the tile floor, you can’t bring yourself to care. you just want to sleep. if you could just sleep, maybe that person in the mirror would go away and you would know your own face.

you reach for it again. it can’t get any worse. you’ve already gone there after you promised yourself you wouldn’t. you can’t even bring yourself to name this thing. it doesn’t matter. you’re already spiraling out into easy black. the bed is suddenly comfortable.

it would almost be funny, if it wasn’t so pathetic.

when graduation approaches, you shave your head because your hair hurts. you immediately regret it. since when were impulsive decisions allowed to be ones that other people could see? you retreat to the couch and the computer and the everything that is and you pretend that that everything is fine. about an hour before you realize tears are streaming down your face.

the paint is cracking again. you panic.

it would almost be funny, if it wasn’t so pathetic.

the person you’ve created would never have lasted forever. the weaver’s scissors approach.

[thatgirlissopeculiar]

you ever wish you’d figured out a good username before you’d established yourself on many platforms

[melting-morning-blues]

where did the idea come from for 'calm her cynical claws?'

oh, my magnum opus? (JOKES)

this has a backstory, actually. so, back when ace was still ongoing, my friend and i made headcannons about what professions the characters would take when they're older. we hc'd that miko would be a michelin star chef (u go girl) and would sometimes use alcohol in her food to make it taste more errr vibrant and expensive, for the lack of better words. and then it sparked an idea in my head which was to hc the characters' alcohol tolerance levels if they ever drank when they grew up 😭😭 hence miko being a michelin star chef in the fic and the characters being ooc + drunk + extra chaotic (you're welcome)

as for the actual writing process... i was actually still in my little writers' block and was searching through my phone for inspo which made me miraculously stumble upon my friend and i's old messages lol. and if u couple it with the fact that i was like..... half delirious from sleepiness, it'll probably explain why the fic was so uncharacteristically chaotic and messy HAHDAHHA (it was really fun to write though! it lifted a weight off my chest, plus i got a big enthusiastic thumbs up from the same friend when i sent the fic to her so that's a win)

also, cuz i can't help myself, i'm gng to post the hcs of the characters' future professions + their alcohol tolerance level separately cuz i thnk the world should know what goes on in my hc-infested head huheuehhauehe

[soloquel]

today, i was awake from 5:35am to am bc i couldn't sleep, but man, the way my creativity just flowed and had me writing much more than i ever had in the past YEARS... fuck sleep. that was really cool.

[fingertipsmp3]

Failed at pretty much everything I set out to do today BUT I did start outlining a writing project so that's a win at least

[ozzgin]

OZZ OMG OMG OMG THAT YANDERE PRISON THING OMG OMG OMG

*jitters with excitement*

I NEED MORE AHHHHH IT TICKLED MY BRAIN THE RIGHT AND WRONG WAY AT THE SAME TIME

Like if you're nice they'll just become your dogs and if you're not nice they'll give you a very rough foursome I'm down for either OMG OMG OMG help I have problems

To quote Markiplier: "I'm not a masochist, this is about power"

*drops dead*

*instantly revives*

Ahem, I saw you mention you might come up with small plots, so I'll do the logical thing to try to inspire you:

- clueless darling ask the leaders about their gangs and whatnot. Like nonchalantly. Because they're too nice darling thought it's no big deal lol

- darling subconsciously avoid blonde man (even tho he is my favourite hahah) after seeing him beat up the guy

- darling got drunk (somehow in a prison) and either gets horny (and try to let it out under the blankets forgetting they got roommates)or innocently touchy hugging all three of them and poking their unique features, sitting in their laps and so on. Or better yet, touches/approaches other inmates in front of the roommates...

content: gender neutral reader, alcohol consumption, NSFW below the cut!

Inmates are creative. They will always find a way around the rules, and this time it happened to be a rather clumsy attempt at brewing alcohol. Had this been discovered by a guard, whoever concocted the beverage would've landed in detention.

Instead, it was you who found it, innocently assuming someone must've forgotten their water behind. You gulped down the clear liquid, thirsty after you walk, then promptly grimaced at its unexpected bitterness.

Safe to say you're now quite drunk.

That in itself would already be troublesome enough, but another thing is endangering yours and everyone else's peace: you're in a particularly flirty mood.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The officer's smile drops instantly, and he turns towards the deep voice. One of your criminal roommates glares at the sight with hollow eyes. You were clinging to the officer's arm, a dumb grin plastered on your face. The man in uniform quickly shoves you aside, his features pale and drained.

"It wasn't me who started it," he pleads.

You're quickly picked up by your bunkie, who is still staring at the guard. He won't be leaving this prison alive, that's for sure. Now, however, his priorities lie somewhere else.

The hallway spins as you're being carried away, and you shamelessly cling to your ride, feeling and groping the muscles and tracing along his tattooed skin.

"My God, at least wait until we're back to our cell," he groans with flushed cheeks.

The blonde one is trying to play it cool. Come, now, you're obviously out of it. He needs to be mature and tuck you in, or something along the line.

Easier said than done, especially with a raging boner. You're quick to notice it, and you certainly don't hesitate to point it out, making lewd gestures with your hands as some sort of offer.

"Are you sure you won't regret it tomorrow?"

"Hey now, I'm drunk, not unconscious," you bark between hiccups.

He may have interrogated you further, but the thought of your pretty little mouth struggling to take him in is too much to bear. He's essentially drooling by the time he pats his knee for you to come over.

The pierced one drops you on your bed with a flat expression. Annoyance? A closer look at his pursed lips, and one can tell he's really just struggling to maintain his composure.

"Please, I really need to-"

You hold him back by the arm and bat your eyelashes. In return, he clicks his tongue. Is this some sort of test from above? His beloved Darling is essentially begging to be fingered. Yet, he shouldn't be taking advantage of your state. He shouldn't...

Too late. You gasp at his rough fingers making their way in.

"Alright, don't be too loud," he concludes with a faint smirk.

The masked one gently places you on your bed, then plants himself before you with crossed arms.

"Nonsense. You're drunk."

"I mean it", you repeat yourself.

He does his best to look imposing. Truth be told, his knees weakened from the moment "fuck me" slipped out of your mouth. He gladly would, but he has morals. Well, when it comes to you, anyways.

Your pout seems to suggest this would be a long standoff. He sighs, then pushes you back onto the mattress.

"How about this? I'll take care of it," he explains quietly, his cloth hovering above your groin. "I'll be awaiting your offer again once you're sober."

For now, his tongue will have to do.

[Yandere Prison] | [More Yandere Stories]