#jesus fucking christ there’s something wrong with me

[xiaq]

Story time: Amazon can go fuck itself, and other genteel thoughts.

Good evening. I’m angry.

Up until now, I’ve purchased the majority of items I can’t thrift from Amazon because it’s easy and cost-effective, despite the moral qualms I have about the company. Previously, support was simple. If an item was damaged or a package didn’t arrive, you hopped on chat/the phone, provided proof, and they gave you a refund or return label.

But some shitstain from on high has introduced a new “incident report” process when something goes wrong. You submit your details, you wait 72 hours, and then they give you a refund. This would also be fine. If it fucking worked. But I have, at this point, irrefutable evidence that this is not actually how the process is intended to work. It’s meant to drive you so far up the wall that you either die from a stress-induced heart attack, or rage quit, and they get to keep your money.

In the last several months, I’ve had to submit three incident reports for damaged and undelivered items (I’m also encountering a lot more issues with item delivery, but that’s a different story).

ALL THREE TIMES, the process has taken weeks rather than days because ALL THREE TIMES they conveniently “had no record” of multiple incident reports I submitted despite the fact that I had confirmation emails each and every time.

Now, I’m a petty bitch, so even though the hours I was spending checking in, waiting on hold on the phone, being passed from agent to agent, was not worth the $10 and $20 refunds I was trying to get them to honor, I wasn’t going to give up. This last time, though. Oh they really tried.

So. My item isn’t delivered. I submit an incident report on the 12th and get my confirmation email of the submission on the 12th. I haven’t heard back by the 14th so I call and check. Shockingly, they have no record of my report. I submit another one, get another confirmation email. I call back the next day to check they received it. They have not. I beg them to let me forward the confirmation emails I have. I ask what else I can do different. They tell me to submit a new report and hang up on me. I submit another report. I receive another confirmation email. I call the next day. Can you guess? They have no record of it. This time, I ask for them to stay on the line with me while I submit a new report and confirm it’s been received. He confirms receipt and promises I will receive a response by the 21st. I record this conversation because I have a suspicion.

Hello. It is the 21st. Have I received a response? No. I call back. THIS ASSHOLE, who I’m pretty sure is reading this shit from a script, says, (are you ready for this) “There’s no record of an incident report, you’ll need to submit one.” I insist that I had confirmation in writing and verbally. She insists it does not exist.

So I tell her. I now have four confirmation emails. I have a recording of an Amazon support person with their credentials assuring me with the product number stated, that they’ve received my report. I also have been recording this conversation. And if she cannot assist me, I will be posting those emails and both recordings to every social media platform I have, filing a BBB complaint, and checking with my lawyer to see what options I have for legal action (do I have a lawyer? Of course not. But she doesn’t know that).

Immediately, she is backpedaling. “Oh, let me check again, maybe I missed it.” Less than 30 seconds later she’s back on the line. “I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding, I do have your report here. I will process a refund now.” Shocking. I am shocked.

IT SHOULD NOT TAKE THIS MUCH EFFORT TO GET A COMPANY TO HONOR THEIR PROMISED LEVEL OF SUPPORT.

Jesus Christ.

B and I will be finding different local places to purchase items we tend to buy via Amazon now, because I have every intention of ending our Prime membership. It looks like between Costco and Target we should be covered.

Anyway. No point to this except to rant. Thanks for reading if you got this far. I’m going to go lay under the weight of my dog and try to get my heart rate down.

[l0relaii]

reader riding josh’s face while she’s standing up………josh’s big hands holding on to her ass to prevent her from falling down

omg. that. is. so. hot

but let me add something. josh doing that while you talk to someone over a counter or window. ok ok let me elaborate

let's say you were planning the winter getaway to the lodge and decided to come with josh one day earlier to make sure everything is prepared

but over night it got so cold the locks froze and you didn't realize you were stuck inside until sam called you to tell you she got to the cable car

so you've tried the door.

locked.

you tried the key.

still locked?

"fuck- josh??"

"hm? what's wrong?"

"i think this thing is frozen"

"jesus fucking christ, again?"

he comes up behind you and tries to open the door, but he can't

"dammit.."

"sam called, said she made it to the cable car"

"well, i guess we'll have to use the deodorant again"

"i swear you're gonna burn this place down one day"

"let's hope today is not that day babe"

"haha, very funny josh"

he gives you a little wink as he goes into one of the bathrooms in search of a deodorant

you see him coming back with it searching for a lighter in his pocket while crouching down in front of the door

you shift your gaze towards the window where you can see two silhouettes appearing

you squint your eyes trying to make out who they are through the foggy window listening to the diy flamethrower

"josh, be careful with that thing"

"oh don't worry baby"

while you try to make out who the two people are you don't even hear the noise of the deodorant stopped, not until you see him, or rather feel him crouched between your legs

his hands come up to your pants dragging them down along with your underwear. you hiss at the cold air hitting your bare pussy and look down at him

"what the fuck josh? what's gotten into you? stop- there's someone out there"

"probably sam"

"no- there are two people, fuck-"

"who cares? they'll have to wait either way"

you feel his hands coming up to your ass dragging you towards his head while he starts trailing kisses up your thighs

chris and ash. fuck, they probably forgot to call. and sam is on her way too, great

"josh stop they're literally at the door-"

"the lock's frozen"

"no it's not, you literally just-"

oh. OH-

yeah the lock is frozen. they can wait outside until you're done, right?

his mouth is suddenly on your clit sucking and licking and kissing while you let out a breathy moan

you hear ashley calling out your name when she sees you looking at them through the window and you wave awkwardly

"open it"

"what-?"

"you heard me, open the window and talk to her, come on, tell her what happened"

fuck.

you reluctantly open the window and lean out towards them so they couldn't peek inside and see josh on his knees between your legs

"oh hey ash, chris, i'm so happy to see you made it"

"oh my god please let us in i thought we were gonna freeze out here"

"where's josh?"

"yeah, where is he? and why aren't you opening the damn door?"

"josh? ugh-"

you feel him digging his fingers into your ass cheeks while sucking harder on your clit. he really wants to get caught, huh?

"josh is, uh, looking for uh- deodorant"

"and he can't open the door without smelling like fresh flowers?"

"no, no- fuck.."

"is something wrong? are you okay?"

"oh yeah i'm fine just.. a little cold, i'm frozen -the door, shit- the lock is frozen, yeah that's right, and josh wants to use the lighter with the deodorant"

"ohh yeah, just like we did with the little army dudes"

the little fucker. he snuck a finger up your cunt while you were trying to explain to your dear friends that the lock is frozen

"oh hiii sam"

amazing

could this situation get any more worse?

"why are you out here? did josh lose the key again?"

oh. that would have been a better lie

"nah, the damn lock is frozen"

you feel it in your lower belly, your orgasm building up. josh feels it too, he can tell from the way your thighs are trembling and the way you're squeezing around his fingers

"hey.. are you.. okay?"

"me? yeah, yes why wouldn't i be?"

"you seem a bit.. shaken up"

you see chris trying to lean forward and look through the window but you put your hand on his shoulder and push him away a bit

"mmfuck.. i think i am a bit- nauseous, you might want to look away"

"do you want some water? ash get the water from my backpack-"

"no, jeez no, chris turn the fuck around or i swear to god i'm gonna- i'm gonna puke on you"

well that worked at least, they all turned around

exactly when your orgasm hits you and your hand shoots down to josh's head pushing him away

you see him wiping away at his mouth with a smirk and disheveled hair. he pulls up your panties and pants before walking to the door and opening it

"i thought the lock was frozen?"

"oh no bro, i guess i just got the wrong key in"

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

have i told anyone about my bizarre headcanon that the nightmare realm is alive, is represented by a giant serpent-esque thing, and ‘recycles’ fords when it deems it needs to?

[casualavocados]

Chen Yi + gentle hands in Ai Di's hair KISEKI: DEAR TO ME (2023)

[silvermoon424]

Y'all I've been feeling like I was dying the past few days and it literally just occurred to me that I'm badly dehydrated. My mental health also hasn't been the best so I kept forgetting to drink water. I was badly neglecting myself and I'm just lucky it didn't get any worse. I've been drinking a bunch of water + liquid iv to rehydrate and I actually feel okay now.

THIS IS YOUR REMINDER TO DRINK WATER!!!!! DO NOT NEGLECT YOURSELF!!!! TAKE CARE OF YOUR PHYSICAL NEEDS!!!!

[atlaseclectic]

{Guys I promise I get where all of hms are coming from it's just......some more than others}

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

[crumpet-doodles]

[emotoangel]

not dnp related but after 4 years of trying to get an assessment (and 25 years of having it) I finally got an adhd diagnosis today gang 😭😭

[a-chaotic-dumbass]

fascinated by how the asoiaf fandom refuses to have any nuance in the books that r entirely based on different perspectives

[silverhalla]

neve came back and I IMMEDIATELY started crying

[widevibratobitch]

omw to play emotional support for my mom disguised as ✨fun family bonding time✨ for the rest of the week <3333 there's something so deeply wrong with me uwu teehee

[justablah56]

hmm I think instead of feeling bad I will simply project this bad onto The Character . for funsies .

[xadianglyphs]

[stgroversfire]

honestly i had to go and listen to like 20 other genres of music before i could circle back and really appreciate tøp

[abby-the-druid]

Okay, for real, real question.

How the fuck are you actually supposed to write a dissertation? Like... there is no guidance? Is that my advisor or is that me?

I feel like someone said "Hey, write me a 150 page document about something you did over the course of the last 5 years."

And I said, "Okay, but like, how do you want that to look?" and no one answered.

And so I said, "but like, you think x y z should go in it, right?" and no one answered.

and so I said, "but like... how should I go about that?" and no one fucking answered.

So now, like as of a day ago, I was asked to have a completed dissertation to turn into my advisor NEXT WEEK.

So I've been doing the spongebob, right? Like staring down at paper, writing furiously, reading furiously, I have had a headache every day for at least 2 straight weeks; I have bags under the bags on my eyes - my fiancé literally told me I have 3 consecutive bags under each eye where they just keep getting worse; I am not sleeping well unless I take my large dose medicine; I am not tired, I am only tired, I am not hungry, my body does not feel normal, I am not bathing regularly, I am behind on chores and

I

STILL

DON'T

KNOW

WHAT THE FUCK I'M SUPPOSED TO DO TO WRITE THIS.

What the fuck am I supposed to be doing? Like I'm going to give this a try but I cannot express how much I DO NOT KNOW what I'm doing.

And you say, but surely, Abby, in the last 5 years at this institution you've published right? Surely your advisor has kept up and made sure you're making good progress, right? Obviously, they have prepared you in some capacity, right?

I would say to you, unfortunately, no. No, I have not published a single first author pub in the last 5 years. My advisor has not kept up to the point over the summer we had not a single meeting -I need weekly meetings otherwise I fall into the void and am taken by the aether- and after waiting 3 months for him to give me feedback on my first paper - the first one I've written in any professional capacity - I am told to deliver a full thesis.

Somebody just fucking take me out brother. I am beyond lost at this point and feel like a failure.

Thanks for listening.

If you do have advice, it would be greatly appreciated because I'm losing my fucking mind.