#yes I’m sO pRiveLegEd to not eat at restaurants

[humandisastersquad]

Covid minimisers are fucking Wild

[jupitertherevolution]

its 230 but ive done tha writin check it out

“food as a love language”, johndave, 1k, slow burn but just barely the sparks

It’s 7pm on a Tuesday, and you and your boy are exhausted. Your boy being one Dave Strider, and you being one John Egbert. Though you’re not really thinking much about identity right now. In fact, the vague, nebulous concept of identity is the furthest thing from your mind right now. At the forefront of your mind right is a different vague, nebulous concept, one that has plagued humanity since the dawn of time: being fucking hungry.

Yes, you and Dave are incredibly hungry. It’s been a long day at work, you at the gas station and him at the Marshall’s, it’s storming like one sunuvabitch outside, and neither of you want to cook.

… But you will. Why? Because for one you’re the better cook out of you two, and you know that Dave wants you to cook even if he’s not saying it yet. The other reason is that if you don’t you’ll both just eat a few slices of cheese. And that’s not gonna cut it.

So while Dave sits his ass down on a barstool and leans on the counter, you consult the fridge. There’s not much in terms of raw ingredients.

“Man, we didn’t get to grab any groceries…” you complain aloud.

“We could reheat those wings?” Dave suggests from his slump on the counter. But you’re struck with an idea. You grab the wings, some shredded cheese, and a packet of tortillas. You snag some vegetable oil from the cabinet and set a frying pan onto the stove. You don’t turn on the burner just yet.

“Dude, what are you even cooking over there? The fridge is a barren-ass desert right now. A cold desert. A tundra. Gonna find a minecraft igloo with some jankass basement in there,” Dave says.

You smile as you start deboning the wings. You put the meat in a bowl and pop it in the microwave for 45 seconds. “I’m making leftovers quesadillas,” you tell him.

You turn on the burner and pour a little oil onto the pan. Just about the size of a quarter. You used to make these all the time when your dad couldn’t make it home by dinner time. You’ve got it down to a science. “They’re just quesadillas with whatever meat you have around the house.”

He snorts a bit at ‘meat you have around the house’. “Dude, you are a blessing,” he says.

You bat your hand as you swirl the oil around in the pan. “Nah, it’s easy. Besides, we gotta eat something, right?”

“No but like… you didn’t have to cook a wholeass meal.” The microwave beeps and you take the chicken out of the microwave. You lay a tortilla on the pan and it sizzles. “Cooking isn’t that hard, Dave. You just,” you start. You grab the cheese and sprinkle a generous amount. “…Add the cheese…” Next you lay a bit of chicken. “…and the chicken…” You grab a spatula and scoop under one side of the tortilla, folding it in half on itself. “…and then you just flatten it like this!”

He giggles. “Like my own personal cooking youtuber.”

“Oh, uh, whoops.” You say, a bit flushed.

“Nah, nah, it’s cool. I like it. It’s like I’m right there with you cooking, except not actually because that would be a disaster, I can’t cook for shit.”

You make a little pout as you flip the tortilla off of the pan and start making another one. “I’m sure you could cook fine if you learned to,” you say.

You can hear him smiling as he says, “Yeah but why would I need to? I’ve got you here as my personal chef!”

You laugh a bit at that. “Yeah, yeah. Anyways, can you grab some plates or some drinks? I’m almost done.”

“O-kay,” he says and makes the most demonic noise while stretching before sliding off of his seat and heading to the minifridge at the other side of the apartment. “You want a mountain dew or a pepsi?”

“Pepsi!” you answer and flip the second quesadilla off. One would think that’d be the end of it, but no! You always make two folded ones per person. Basic leftovers quesadillas rule. You put another tortilla on. “Man, I can’t believe you always buy pepsi… I want coke sometimes, man!” Dave gripes.

“Sorry Dave, but I just don’t like the hostile red. I need my soothing blues.” You’re on the verge of bursting into laughter just from saying it.

“What are you, a bull?” he says.

“Yes,” you say and hold a straight face for about a second before cracking up. It’s not that funny, but it’s become a running joke that you like pepsi better purely because of its ‘soothing blue packaging’.

You flip the third quesadilla off and get started on the last one. Tortilla, cheese, and chicken, in a nice rhythm. “Plates?” you say.

“Right, right,” Dave says and opens up the cabinet. “I’m still surprised you did all this. You didn’t have to.”

“Dave, I told you, it’s easy! Plus it tastes really good, and I didn’t really feel like eating shitty food tonight,” you say.

He sets the plates down on the counter across from you. “No but like dude, anything you cook is like, insanely good. I wake up every day and thank god I get to have a roomie who cooks like a goddamn michelin-approved restaurant chef.”

Your face warms a bit, but you flip the last quesadilla off and turn off the burner. “…Thanks Dave,” you finally manage to stammer out.

Finished with the cooking, you grab the pizza cutter and slice the quesadillas into quarters. You two grab your plates and drinks and sit next to each other. It’s as good as you thought it would be.

“Man, maybe you should teach me to cook. This is godly,” Dave says in between bites. “I’d be happy to teach you whenever you want, Dave,” you say.

The quesadillas are quickly demolished, and after putting the dishes in the dishwasher, you two are satisfied. “You down to just chill on the couch? Watch a movie?” he says.

You stand up and head to the living room corner. “Yeah, but I get to pick.” He complains as he gets up, “Nooo, you’re gonna pick something unironically shitty…”

“Hey, chef’s priveleges.”

[mayatheamazon]

ATTENTION: DO NOT ADD LIZLEZLIZLEZ ON SNAPCHAT!!!!!!!

“She” is actually a male hacker posing as a 19 year old girl’s private Snapchat under the name Lizette. Avoid VALERIE HOLLIDAY as well.

Sincerely, a victim.

so yesterday morning this girl on snap (super pretty, was going to meet up with her in a couple days) wanted to confirm we were meeting.

I said that yes I believe I can convince my parents to go out that day and then she goes off on me, acting as if I was blowing her off when it was the opposite?

she goes on to slut shame me for having 10 partners throughout my life, get pissed that my upper-middle-class self is “so rich and priveleged,” and discredits my talking about working my ass off as a host in a busy restaurant to pay off my student loans as “an easy job, taking the jobs from those who need it, and being so rich” that I “deserve to be targeted.” And the vacation pics I put on my snapchat story because my friends like to see my life was “flexing my wealth.” Bitch tf. I wear cheap clothes and don’t even rly shop ever. I love to give back and I mind my own fucking business. If anything I use my privelege for good and give my friends clothes when they really need it. I never ask people for anything in return. Even if I’m the friend who drives around all the time paying her own gas and car expenses.

I agreed that my family was more fortunate but only because they started from the bottom, survived the 2008 housing crisis BARELY but only because they saved up wisely and had rainy day funds, and still give back. My dad is a small business owner who gives jobs, not takes them. And I’ve always been raised to not be a spoiled brat, to always give back, and to check my privelege.

I’m literally 18 and just graduated and everyone in Orange County has some wealth but obviously when I move out it’s going to be with my own money. I will Be budgeting and eating ramen and having to work multiple jobs but I will do it and not give up on my passions. I’ll be the burnt out gen z-Er that I already am. I don’t lay around.

My days are always filled with me being extremely productive.

Always on my feet. Being anything but lazy.

So for her to call me a spoiled brat when she didn’t even know me....

Idek. I know of my privelege as an American teen who has a car, has a job. I feel rich because I have a good supportive family, a roof over my head, and an open heart. That’s what matters to me most. Of course I’m tucking rich compared to countries with hella inflation and poverty and severe class separation.

The girl starts screenshotting and saving all the private pics and videos I naïvely sent her. Then, while still slut-shaming me, verbally abusing me, and all that shit, she DEMANDS $150 from my own minimum wage paycheck or else she sends my nudes to my parents and managers at work.

She tells me the street I live on too. Calls me stupid. Says that she is actually a man in India who hacks and targets “rich girls” (meaning the girl I was seeing was his previous victim!!!!) to “redistribute wealth”

like some edgelord guy who’s read V for Vendetta or Fight Club and relates to the problematic characters without knowing that OH, Robin Hood’s equivalent in the modern day would be actually targeting rich big business owners who use their privelege to overwork and underpay their employees, or maybe the Hollywood men who use their wealthy white male privelege that we hear about in the #MeToo movement.

Instead of being chaotic good, he’s acted pretty sexist and chaotic evil if you ask me.

Fuck off, buddy. So I sent the money. Was friendly the whole time besides saying the hacker better leave me alone after this, and calling him a dipshit. Asked what food he was buying with it. Said hummus. I joked with the hacker that “I fucking love hummus”. Tried to be a good sport about all of this. Even on the Venmo I said “have a good day XX” (ok that might be sarcasm but DUDE my nude was his profile pic so I can afford to be salty). He’s probably going to use “Valerie Holliday” to catfish as me because that was the Venmo name.

Maybe you can say I’m a “priveleged girl who’s only for wealth redistribution/caste separation reduction if it doesn’t affect her” but the fact that in comparison to the people in my area that is NOT Beverley Hills, I’m not rly that rich??? and the victims of this guys actions should never just be victim blamed?

So guys. I love Bella Thorne. I love the women and men who’ve had to engage with hackers like this who steal their private info and make them feel powerless. Now I’m one of the victims but I don’t just want to be a victim.

I laughed at this and didn’t cry. You can say I took a little breather from my stizz to just clear my overthinking mind and take this as a lesson from the universe. I am pretty trusting of people—too much sometimes—and I’m just grateful I didn’t get hurt and that it wasn’t more $ from my bank account so I can still repay my dad for graciously helping me financially now and again.

I’m glad I didn’t budge on my own opinion of myself and know that I’m not just a spoiled brat. What separates those from me, is that idgaf if I have to do real work like cleaning my dog’s shit, and I am extremely aware of tons of problems in society. Fast fashion is something that I really wish to help stop in the future. So that factories can stop child labor in countries like India, where the hacker was from.

It’s sad because I asked the hacker why he does this besides “redistributing wealth” like the chad he is and he said “what moral compass?” Obviously I’ll never know what this guy has went through but I know that I’m getting money by working.

I mean. Maybe he’s the spoiled brat, typing some hacker codes to bamboozle money from teenage girls he thinks are so “rich” and “evil.”

I’m calling Snapchat soon but I’ve been busy at work and got severe pinkeye this morning but enough is enough.

We gotta stick up for those who’ve been through this shit. It’s SUPER LAME.

Here are the pics of the chat btw (1-5) and Valerie Holliday’s Venmo with my pic on it on 6 of 6. I mean...cool hacker flex. I said he did good at being a hacker but damn he’s an awful human.

STAY SAFE GUYS.