#Ricochet is such a troll

[screampied]

࣪.₊ 𐙚 SHE WANNA GO VIRALLL ?! ★

gojo, choso, nanami, toji, geto. cybersēx and getting freaky on camera with the jjk men

𐚁̸ warnings. fem! reader, camgirl/boy themes, phone sēx, unprotected, praise, dirty talk, toji slander, toy usage, hair pulling, guided órgasms, size kink, using a cóck ring on choso, squırting, òral (f! / m! receiving), voyerism.

𐚁̸. an. kind of lost in ikea rn so i wrote this yaya

TOJI ✩ FUSHIGURO.

“tch,” toji grunts as a third piercing smack hits against your ass. you let off a gasp as you’re just lazily arched over for him. just a few moments ago and you were leaking with globs of velvety ropes of cum. the powered on monitor you had propped up against the desk had a blinding bright glow to it. dark, viridescent eyes glance at your chat that’s spamming with donations before he squints. as he’s drilling you into your keyboard from behind, he clings onto your hip. “why the fuck does y’er chat keep callin’ me broke.”

“eheh, oh—” you swallow, feeling him reach in deep areas. indeed they were, flooding your chat with the same tiring jokes of toji. it was a common joke within your audience. as another moan leaves your throat rawly, you gnaw down on your lip. “they’re jus’ trolling, ‘toj. everyone knows you’re filthy rich, baby.”

itsnotchosover: girl who is everyone

sexymartha38: he's so hottttt. when is it my turn

drakesfatbbltbh: Dad? :0

with an eye roll, he resumes back to fucking you stupid. a being hand of his grasps onto your head, digging into your precious scalp. holding your head up, he makes you stare at your thousands of viewers with the dumbest expression glued onto your face. “bet all y’er little fans wish they were me, huh,” and there’s such cockiness dripping underneath his tone. toji’s fat cock has your mouth dangling agape—you’re almost drooling. it was so effortless on how you’d always coat his base with a translucent-colored ring. a pretty, soddened white ring that sticks against your ass each thrust he presents. it’s downright nasty, and yet—his hips were even nastier. as he’s got your hair with a firm secure grip, he lightly shoves you into the screen. moaning, you’re being pushed face first into the monitor—pupils glowing from the colors on your stream ricocheting against your dilated irises. “mhm, good girl. fuck back against me ‘n let these losers watch.”

of course—throughout everything, he’s catching all types of strays through the multicolored flood of comments.

toji could really care less though, a sly grin compresses against his lips before he makes you arch more forward. your back slouches over the wooden desk in such a sexy way that he can’t help but gift your left cheek with another rude spank. “f-fuuuck,” you’d sob out, trying to grab onto your mouse but he snatches your hand. with a quick paced speed, he makes your arm restrain around your back. significantly, he’s amping up his sloppy pace. your weeping cunt repeatedly squelches against him over and over and over. it’s never ending—profusely, your cunt’s idly dripping wet and the sounds just gets more addictive to listen to. that and the repetitive shrilling pings of your donations. aw, another goal met, it makes you smile with gratitude—and just as you were about to recite your recycled ‘thank you’ to your thousands of viewers, your breath catches in your throat and you whine. toji’s thickset base pap pap pap’s against you through and through and your mind’s just mush. not a single thought in your empty brain. “gonna cum, toji. tojiiiii, so fuckin’ big.”

“want me ‘ta slow down after you said i was small, yeah oookay,” and he’s just so sassy that you wanted smack him. that was practically true though. your chat told you to prank toji, telling him how he’s small. obviously, that wasn’t true, and here you were, feeling every staggering inch he’s presenting to your clingy greedy pussy.

a sopping string of your own slick sticks against his base each time—it’s sticky, he groans at the sight of it. a tongue of his flicks against the scar near the right side of his mouth and you wriggle your hips back into him. hissing at the almost sharp sensation between your thighs and your constant teasing, he yanks you back toward him. leaning up close to you, he licks a stripe down your neck before groaning. “sloppy fuckin’ girl, ‘m gonna get you pregnant on live. want that?”

with a sheepish whine pouring out of your throat, you grind your body against him, feeling the tip of his dick expand through every secluded crevice of your sweet cunt. “yeah, gimme a baby then. fill me up again, pleaseee.”

and as his pounding against your clit exceeds, so does your arch. the pace was almost animalistic. the chat’s spamming with comments, praising you and even trolling your expressions. your mind’s on a loop, with warm bodies clashing against each other, he groans into your ear. “fuck, gonna give you twins, girl,” and his voice was a mere pitchy deep. your limbs spike and with his rough hips, it allows a candied stretch to pry its way into your pussy. all from your girth, it’s almost delicious and you’d rate his dick five stars if you could. “shit, clamping all around m—” and before he could even finish his sentence, toji pauses. a roaring grunt rumbles out from him and he steadies your hips. not only does he shoot into you, but he gets a mean leg cramp. twitching ravened brows of his contort together and he quickly pulls out. it’s almost comedic, you stare at him through the reflection of your screen all while feeling his oozing hot cum spill down from between your thighs. hearing a giggle come from you, he grunts, spanking your ass. don’t laugh, little girl.”

“s- sorry, forgot you have skeleton bones,” you playfully rub your neck, peering your eyes at the dozens of comments trolling him.

“s— shut up,” he breathes, both hands on his hips. his leaky tip now flaccid and swollen, toji entraps his bottom lip with a teeth. exhaling out a tired whew, his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. “gimme a minute. er . . an hour, fuckk.”

and then as he tries to get up, a sudden loud crack in his bones occurs. “ignore that.”

NANAMI ✩ KENTO.

with a pout, you slump back onto the shared bed of your husband. it was near the afternoon—you knew he was busy, off on a mission or something but you missed him badly. it was almost painful at how you almost forgot what his touch felt like.

so you decide to text him. pulling out your phone, you scroll towards his contact with a heart next to his name. eagerly, you align your thumbs against the grey keyboard, squeezing your thighs together. starting off with a simple, ‘miss you baby,’ and awaiting for his reply. as you wait, you go back to playing with yourself. with your pretty legs all sprawled out, your fingers cramp up inside of your drooling pussy. shoved to the side of your thighs were a pair of panties nanami gifted you on your birthday. about four minutes later, he replies.

nanami: Sweetheart. I miss you too.

nanami: I need to hear your voice, call me yeah?

and without wasting any time, you dial those same known ten digits before pressing a thumb against the call button. on the first ring, he answers and he speaks first with a low, “hey you, how’s my pretty princess?”

“horrible,” you whine, still stuffing your cunt full of fingers. two slender fingers that were all soaked with your slick. it was a mess, your breathing patterns continue to change the more you imagine if he was really here. “i- i miss you, ‘ken. touchin’ myself ‘s so hard when you’re not around.”

“oh,” nanami says through the other line, his voice as smooth as silk. his absent presence only his fingers knew the exact layout of your pussy. nanami’s fingers were the pure definition of utopia—knowing all the right areas of your cunt with such ease. simply perfect. nanami was still on a mission, but he took care of his tasks. clearing his throat, taking a seat on a nearby bench, he sighs. “you’re touching yourself without me, huh sweetheart.”

“s- sorry,” you stammer, feeling yourself about to release soon. not before long, your thighs start to quiver and shake. “mhm,” you chew on the lower part of your lip, feeling your breathing shake up. “kento, talk to me please. help me c-cum, baby.”

“my wife decided to be filthy today,” he purrs, the sweet moans that escaped from your lips making his cock twitch. you were so loud, he’s always thought you had the prettiest voice. as you’re continuing to feel pounds of elation surge through you—you curl a finger inside, rubbing against your sensitive nub. “bring the phone up to her. wanna hear what she’s got to say too, my love.”

putting it up to your sopping cunt, you switch the phone to speaker. nanami grows mute for a second, listening to how wet you were. your fingers play and strum against your folds before you start to tremble. “k- kento, ‘m close, so close.”

“come on princess, listen to my voice, okay,” and with your back reclined against the cushioned mattress, you start to pant. your body feels limp, his voice was the perfect mixture of deep and a bit raspy—tender, each praise he gives you only makes you throb even more. “i want you to pretend you’re using my fingers,” and as he’s speaking, the tips of your fingers prod against that particular area. grazing against your clitoral hood, you nibble on your halfway lolled out tongue. “mhm, doing so well. just listen to me, play with her a bit more ‘n then let go sweetheart. let go just for me.”

gasping for any sorts of breaths—you whimper, two fingers getting lost into the depths of your pussy. it was a mess, a nice viscous amount of your slit departs from your digits as you pull them out of you before dragging them back in. “kento, ‘m cumming. all on your f- fingers,” you whine, imagining it was his thick fingers shoving in and out instead of yours. as you continue to whine through irregular breaths, the bobbing of your throat intensifies. “hnghh,” you babble, clammy fingers soaking in everything before you finally let loose. gushing out— it’s a lot. volumes of your sweet trickle onto the satiny sheets. a damp spot soaks its way into the fabric before you collapse back with a cute orgasm to follow. “f- fuck, ‘s good,” and your legs tremor vigorously. you felt like you were floating, everything throbbed and pulsed and your mind felt like it was racing at miles a minute. with an airy exhale, you put the phone back up to your mouth. “ken— you still there?”

“always,” he coos, his voice sending you various amounts of euphoric shivers. as you’re still letting go of your high, you can hear nanami’s raspy breaths through the other end of the phone too. he’s panting, almost as if he was actually there with you. “good girl, you did so good,” and nanami pauses for three seconds before whispering. “hm, i gotta go—but princess, send me a picture of the mess. i wanna see what ‘m gonna have to clean up when i get home.”

CHOSO ✩ KAMO.

it wasn’t really surprising to you that you found out your shy and timid best friend was a camboy. he was pretty well known—trendy and everyone’s favorite whiner.

pulling in thousands and thousands of views per month, he started to become a household name in the cyber world. choso was having a usual stream late at night, stroking himself off in front of his various followers. biting his lip, he tries to ignore the comments of his fans asking for him to try on his cock ring. “h- heh, if you guys want me to do that, you’ll have to help us reach our goal.”

and as soon as he says that, he reaches it.

with a frowning pout, choso’s lip quivers. “shit. nevermind then,” and as he’s fisting his own dick with solid pumps, a vein runs down his prolonged fat shaft.

he leans back, tossing his head back too—choso’s hair was unkempt and flowing down. he didn’t have his usual two ponytails today. ravened strands of hair go against his eyes and he lets off a nervous laugh toward his viewers. “ugh, s-so much for that. fine, i’ll use it for a little,” and then it dawned on him, the cock ring not only goes around choso, but it vibrates too.

as he’s just about to put the toy around his base, that’s right when you walk in. “hey, did you see my shower g-” and your jaw nearly drops once you’re trying to process the lewd view in front of you. so that’s what that noise was, the constant whining through the walls. choso’s reaction is an exact replica of yours. swallowing thickly, he’s still got his erect dick in hand, and it’s just so pretty. “oh, am i interrupting?”

“n— no,” he hitches a single breath, taking a moment to stare at your body. even dressed down, you looked so attractive. with a sheepish grin, he rubs a hand down the brief undercut that’s near his nape. he’s embarrassed, but it slowly goes away due to him being aroused. occasionally gawking at the chat, he does a hand motion with his fingers. “actually, since you’re here. i kinda need your help. please.”

“okay,” you giggle, setting aside your bag. you’re face first with his dick that’s standing tall right in front of you. it seems like he’s been stroking it for a while before stopping. the tip of his shaft was all reddened. a flustered pinkish pink. choso licks his lips and you stare at his neatly set up monitor. “hi chat,” you tease, and dozens of comments stare to flood, asking if you’re the girlfriend he keeps rambling about. with an eyebrow raise, you hum. “girlfriend?”

“sh— ignore them,” he grunts, and he grabs onto your arm. in a shaky breath, choso speaks in an almost needy whisper. “can . . i use your hand? sorry if that’s weird. you just- you have really nice hands,” and once you simper, giving him a nod, he softly grabs ahold of your wrist. choso couldn’t wait any longer, he didn’t really care if things felt rushed—with another lip bite, he hands you the plastic cock ring. “put . . can you put this on me ‘n stroke me off? mhm, ‘m close ‘n it might help.”

“ooh, a cock ring?” you stare at the toy in hand, a thumb feeling against the stretchy material. choso prepares to inhale once you stretch it out, playing with the buttons on it. your eyes briefly light up once you notice that it can really vibrate. oh, he was gonna whine for sure.

putting it around his dick, it flings a bit before you grab ahold of his base—it’s pretty, a vein runs down the very center and you can’t help but give his tip a little kiss. “mwah,” you smooch, even going far as to sliding your tongue against his sensitive frenulum. his tip was leaky, you taste a bit of his bitterly sweet precum before you turn the ring on its medium setting. once the whirring buzzes of the toy vibrates, you leer up at him. “mhm, ‘s this okay, ‘cho?”

“y- yes, kiss it more please. use your t- tongue,” and as he exhales deeply, his chest falters back. your tongue feels so good. with the mixture of added vibrations, he wasn’t gonna last two seconds. the maddening ringing in his ears was so high pitched that it was almost equivalent to tinnitus. whining, he grabs a fist full of your hair before you start to open your lips apart. choso watches with glossy eyes as you lower your head onto his length, taking him into your warm welcoming mouth. “mhm, such a nasty little t- throat,” and his voice cracks—even his attempt at dirty talk was adorable. choso then gawks back up at his audience, thousands of viewers praising choso for being so whiney, with a few comments praising how pretty you looked.

he never told you, but he told his fans that you were his girlfriend, every single stream. you were just his roommate, but he liked imagining you and him were together. a little fantasy of his.

your throat was a force to be reckoned with. it was warm and narrow, so perfect for his long inches. you almost gag a bit as he’s lightly pushing you back and down—yet he pauses every few seconds to ask if it’s too much or if you’re okay. choso was lengthy, a bit of girth and you were already slobbering on his dick. the constant teeth-shattering vibrations of the cock ring that’s wrapped around his base makes him whimper. “mphm,” you make a muffled noise, feeling him sloppily drag your head down back and forth. you’re trying to speak but choso nervously smiles.

“b- baby, don’t talk with your mouth so . . full, ‘s rude,” he swallows, feeling the inside of his throat become dry. and of course, choso barely lasts.

the pulsing in his cock only surges, and within minutes he’s already a mess—he ends up finishing early, shooting a whopping load into your mouth. it’s gooey and comes out in stringy ropes. it coats all on the back of your tongue and you’re slurping it all up. “s-so good,” he whines, and choso’s looking down at you with literal heart eyes dilating in his irises. with that throat of yours, he was already in love. he’s heavily panting, and he closes his laptop before making your bobbing head get off his length. with the cock ring still jittering against his length, he gingerly grabs you by the neck, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. despite its deepness, it was sensual. immediately, choso sucks against your tongue. half-lidded eyes staring up at you before he moans, tasting the remnants of his own cum on your lips. a free hand shakily rubs against your neglected cunt. “t- thank you,” he mewls, sable strands of hair sticking against his forehead. huffing out a single breath, he squeezes your cunt before making you wrap a leg around his waist. “i want more though. i want y- you.”

GOJO ✩ SATORU & SUGURU ✩ GETO.

with them both, they’re both major sluts.

it goes without saying that where there’s gojo there’s geto. in this case, they’d both be top camboys. fighting over the number one spot of being at the top. but as of now, they’d both be fighting between your legs. fighting over who can eat you out better.

they’d position their monitor in a good angle so that their thousands of viewers can see you with your legs all sprawled out.

“f-fuuck,” you whine, feeling each of their tongues clash and swipe against your saturated entrance. you were living every girl’s dream—as you ogle down toward your two best friends, you comb a hair through geto’s messy strands. with a tight yanking grip, you pull his hair up. “like that sugu, wanna feel your piercing more.”

“hmph,” gojo pouts, using a broad hand to pry your legs apart even further. you’d already came about four times. four times the two of them snatched out such dangerously pleasurable orgasms. with your head throwing itself back, you feel gojo starting to suck against your clit. gojo’s getting aroused himself. a free hand of his reaching down, creeping inside of his boxers.

the difference between gojo and geto—gojo was more of a clit biter, geto was more of a clit kisser.

where gojo’s sloppy sucks and slurps against your cunt would occur, they’d soon turn into playful bites and nibbles. “stop hoggin’ her, suguboo,” he grumbles, the cutest pout squeezing against his facial expressions. geto’s got a sly grin, feeling you tug all on his hair. as his face runs back and forth against your cunt, his chin pouring down with a sheeny slick of your slit, he kisses your pussy. a variety of smooches that makes you pulse right on their tongues.

“make me, pretty boy.”

they’d always bicker, always,

you’re struggling to stay still, squirming from the stimulation and it’s making your mouth water. you were sure they were gonna give you another orgasm within no time.

with your tummy heaving sporadically in and out at such irregular intervals, you let off a whiney whimper. gojo nibbles down against your cunt, and he suddenly pauses once he feels geto’s tongue flick against his. “eh. dude—”

“what, you want me to give you attention too or something?” geto shrugs, and you feel the long edges of his fingernails trace against your skin.

seductively, he gently uses the tip of his finger to carve into your leg, pretending he’s writing the four letters of his name on your flesh.

circling against your skin, he pushes his tongue in further before he’s nose deep—bedaubing all over and against your slick. “mhm, fuckin’ soaked for us.” and a thumb of his drags down your swollen, pulsing clit. your cunt continues to weep and beg for more, you’re so close—your orgasm was on the very tip of your tongue. you could almost taste it.

gojo’s still got the same pouty glower on his face as the two of them delve their twitching pink tongues into your cunt. hot, feverish breaths fan and aerate against your pussy before he cranes his head toward geto, mumbling in a cheeky tone. “you wanna kiss me so bad.”

“maybe i do.” geto rolls his eyes—and a dozen invisible question marks float over your head as your two best friends were literally flirting.

right in front of your salad—well in the case, right in front of your pussy.

by now, you’d all forgotten they were still live, hence the deafening pinging sounds of donations and notifications bringing you straight back to reality. staring down at them both, geto and gojo were still between your legs before they lean in to kiss. immediately, gojo folds before whining into geto’s tongue as the moving muscles dance amongst each other. for some reason, as they’re making out and still eating you out, it makes you throb. gojo’s pretty lashes flutter close, and they take turns with claiming each other’s lips and sucking against your pussy.

but that only lasts for a second or two—as they’re still having their lips locked, a hand of geto’s slides up gojo’s shirt, chuckling against his lips. furrowing your brows, it’s now your turn to pout. “um?? hello. did you guys just forget about me?”

[9w1ft]

I'm a gaylor myself so this isn't coming from a place of hate but I really don't think karlie and taylor are still together, I think taylor still references her in her art and probably will for quite some time because that relationship -- whatever the nature of it was -- left such a deep impact on her. but I really can't see them still being together, I think she's forced herself to move on from karlie and has since dated a lot of other women. that doesn't mean her feelings for karlie have faded, just that they will probably always be there but they broke up for sure before 2019, I think. folklore and evermore, midnights even, are all breakup albums, I just can't see how they could still be together. especially all her anger and sadness in those songs that are thought of to be for karlie (like my tears ricochet or exile or mad woman) also the cover art being shoot in bedfords, new york, the exact same place where karlie got married feels more like taylor revisiting this place to really say goodbye and mourn her for one last final time so she can move on

sorry, this got a bit long, I just don't understand the appeal or the reasoning for lsk's because taylor has indicated so many times that they are over, she's been mourning her relationship with karlie quite publicly since 2019 (wearing all black during the lover era) so yeah

hi! i don’t usually respond to these but i’m not sensing any ill will so i’ve decided to give a reply a go.

first off, for me, i kinda just interpret her wearing black in the back end of lover era because her masters had gotten bought by scooter. and maybe the fact that she decided to not come out. there can be other reasons, but i really do not think that her breaking up with karlie has to be one of them.

another thing i can’t shake is the fact that it was a very notorious troll/manipulative person on tumblr who spread the first rumor that they broke up in 2019, a fact that is well understood by a lot of OG’s, and this troll got in the head of a few popular kaylor and gaylor swift accounts at the time and in doing so she got a lot of people to fold. she then went on to write all this progressively unhinged fanfiction about taylor and karlie trying to make one another jealous and sleeping with all these women, presented with the same level of seriousness with which she pushed the breakup agenda. even to this day, i see present day gaylors talk about stuff that stems from narratives this account and a few other power hungry accounts spread around many years ago and it honestly just goes to show how a lot of well known gaylors may be platformmed up but that don’t really know what they’re talking about.. i only write this because the troll deactivated about a year ago (maybe they’re lurking on platforms with more malleable minds—once a troll always a troll—but at least they’ve left here), they were a really dangerous person.. and several have wild receipts to prove it.

anyways sorry i recognize that’s a tangent, i guess what i mean to say by it is, a lot of the sentiment surrounding the idea of a 2019 breakup and the reinforcement of the narrative by a gaylor community none the wiser stems from the work of someone with disingenuous intentions. a lot of “masterposts” or “realistic timelines” draw from what this person made up and it’s gone through enough filters for it to seem like credible sentiment but like, if you were there and you read all of what she wrote you know how silly it all sounded and how incoherently it was all written.

okay so to circle back to more of a content-centric angle, in my interpretation of the events that gave us folklore, evermore, and midnights, taylor had so much to be sad about. her mom had been very sick, the pandemic arrived and she had to cancel lover fest, she had to come to terms with scott b having sold her work to her sworn enemy… songs on midnights and folklore, and on her lover era apple music playlist allude to certain other things that may have had her in a mournful mood. things were bad! and i don’t doubt that her and karlie have been through a lot. but for me, when you’ve got a ride or die love, you don’t just break up. this has been something frustrating for me and others, i think, to see so many people treat a relationship as either being all systems go or broken up, as if long term partners can’t experience sadness together, difficulty together, even heartbreak together.

i don’t like getting in to touchy subjects so much but there’s just been too much pointing towards what i consider to be a rather simple narrative that is a natural progression for people committed and in love. how did the lover music video begin and end? whats a randomly specific word in a song she performed at the grammys minutes after someone was announced to the world? what about taylor’s envisioned future stands out about the anti hero music video? i think i’ll stop here but idk man 😆 poke around my archive if you feel like wasting a few days of your life… there’s just been a consistent flow of the same kind of hijinks that we’ve seen from them for years, and i’d say that there are many songs that back up everything i’d want in order to stay invested in seeing if what i believe is true.

now, i know i just wrote what reads like a bunch of mumbo jumbo to people not following kaylor. but im okay with that. i’ve accepted that. and i know that the whole patterns and koincidences and twinning and symbolism beat isn’t for everyone and so i respect people’s decisions to believe they aren’t together, but in closing i’ll just say im sometimes at a loss to see time and time again people suggest that kaylors believe in kaylor because they find it appealing or because they want to ship it. when it’s literally not that— it just makes the most sense to a lot of us!

also, does this look like the face of someone mourning?

[kismets-barista]

Taps on mic this one is for u @hickorybickory

As promised, my Country Troll oc >:>

His name is Dr. Ricochet and he goes by Rich or just Doc and his VA is Tracy Byrd. I wanna put him in his mid 40s.

[Also in my own silly little canon, he's the doctor that saved John Dory's tail from becoming nonconsensual confetti after a vulture attack in which JD saved one of Delta Dawn's neices's lives. B]) 💜🌟🫧

[rebelkelley0219]

Punk trolls ricochet

[gentleeclipsey]

The air was heavy with energy, and the light of dusk had long fallen. Gnasha had spent the day hunting, but had only found meager bones and scraps to eat. The great beast of a she-troll approached the stone, gently cooing as she entered into the naturally hallow heart. Her soft coos gently ricocheted off the humming walls as she approached on all fours. In the center there was a large, freshly turned nest, and within laid the Ancient One. Her fur was thick, luxurious, her mane just as beautiful and bright. Gnasha felt jealousy against Strickler, such a warlord should've known he was lucky to set his hands on such a worthy Queen. It was quite the shock when the winged beast had taken the furred firemane as his wife, but not a day had passed that Gnasha wavered in her diligence.

The carcass was set down gently, and the broad, odd nose softly delved into the recently cleaned fur of the soft troll's neck sniffing deeply and feeling her pulse. Once Gnasha was sure all was well, she laid a gentle kiss onto the fellow she-troll's head, and another on her gently swollen belly. Two wards, for centuries Gnasha had been unwaving in watching over them, and for centuries more she would happily remain. Gnasha slumped gently to sit, beginning to feed as she hummed softly, speaking between bites to the Queen as if she were awake. Neither female had aged since they'd been placed here, and they wouldn't age as long as they remained. In some deep part of Gnasha she felt guilt for eating while the Queen slept, but she also knew to save the best hunts for when the Queen and their Heir would awaken.

But for now, Gnasha ate the scraps, tail gently entangled against the Queen's back, humming softly to her between bites.

[bestworstcase]

You've mentioned that hatedoms tend to be very similar to each other, if not outright identical across fandoms. What is it that causes them to be like this and so similar to each other?

well. to explain this i think it’s first helpful to lay out why hatedom… exists, because i think that is generally not understood in normative fandom space; what i see happening in a lot of conversations about hatedom is that there is a widespread presupposition that hatedom is kind of a side effect of bullies and bigots lashing out at fans for liking something they don’t, and… that’s a misconception because hatedom is a fandom subculture.

“but farran,” you might be thinking, “hatedom is full of bigoted bullies”—and yes, it is. that is true of fandom across the board and, frankly, the harassment is often mutual. it’s just that trolling hatedom or just being combative and nasty toward people in hatedom is broadly socially acceptable in a lot of fandom spaces and the perception that hatedom is demographically homogenous (white, cishet, male) allows fandom’s bad actors to spin aggression as self-defense by rhetorically invoking identity politics. 

which is not to say that hatedom isn’t ever reactionary or that hatedom doesn’t have a massive bigotry problem—it is and it does—but rather that those things are not unique to this one subculture. it is a Fandom Problem. 

so, with that said, what makes hatedom happen?

it isn’t about not liking something. it isn’t even really about hating a thing. people in hatedoms are… fans, actually. 

specifically they are fans who have reached the natural terminus of fandom’s “fuck canon/yay fanon” culture. this is actually the main reason i tend to get somewhat acidic with the anons i get sometimes kvetching about hatedom rewrites and the like, because… hello? 

inside every happy fan besotted with fanon is an embittered screed just one favorite-headcanon-shattering narrative turn away from getting out. it is the same. mindset. bifurcated solely by whether the preferred fanon resembles the real story enough to believe the fanon is real. 

this is why hatedom is disproportionately populated by shippers of torpedoed ships and hardcore believers of popular fan theories that flopped. (and once you notice this, perusing fandom tags and blogs becomes a fun exercise in forecasting the hatedom.)

anyway the point of all this being that hatedom arises when there is an irreconcilable break away from popular fanon in the actual text. when ships get sunk, popular fan theories get jossed, or the narrative status quo is changed, it’s really common for fans who were deeply invested in that ship or theory or paradigm  to pivot to hatedom because the emotional attachment they have to the story and characters doesn’t go away, it just hits an immovable obstacle and ricochets off in a new direction. 

again, fans do exactly the same thing at a lesser intensity. fix-it fic. headcanons of omission, ie, “i know x happened in canon but i don’t like it so i am choosing to pretend it didn’t, actually.” the entire sentiment that fandom itself is about stripping a story for spare parts to write bespoke au fic tailored exactly to suit the fan’s preferences. 

what distinguishes hatedom—& this is getting to the answer of your actual question—is that in hatedom the “fuck canon/yay fanon” principle is applied in the context of that irreparable breach opening between canon and fanon. in normative fandom spaces, the popular fanon kind of gets superimposed with the text in a manner that allows them to blend together, hiding any small discrepancies. that isn’t possible in hatedom because the discrepancies are always so large.

inevitably what that leads to is this feedback loop where the hatedom develops its preferred fanon through a combination of fanworks, meta-posting about why the fanon would have been better or should have been what happened instead, and cherry-picking whatever bits and pieces from canon people in the hatedom happen to like.

(which is how all fanon develops, yes.)

over time, it’s the meta-posting about the preferred fanon that causes hatedom to dissolve into the vindictive nitpicky circus. no matter where you go in fandom, there is always a huge social incentive to keep coming up with new things to talk about. obviously. in normative fandom spaces a lot of that is generated by excitement and joy and just a desire to spend more time with the story and share what you think and kick fun or interesting ideas around. but in hatedom, the passion binding these fans together is estranged from canon almost completely and the group identity is predicated on this really intense disappointment that the preferred fanon got left in the dust. 

so hatedom is fundamentally driven by a powerful social incentive to keep coming up with new reasons why the preferred fanon is better. that pushes the fanfic away from au and into spitefic territory, leaches nuance out of the discussions, encourages nitpicking and angry screeds. eventually it hits a certain critical mass and tailspins rapidly into bullshit because (and this is the key) people in hatedom are fans. 

as in, most of them like the stories they’re ripping apart. they largely do not actually have any deep problem with the story because they are fans having extreme reactions to disappointment. so they talk shit and nitpick and make melodramas out of molehills and sometimes fling bizarre identity politics around to either legitimize nonsense Story Bad arguments or score imaginary points in altercations with normative fandom. 

if that all sounds familiar, yeah. lmao

i will close with an anecdote to illustrate the broader point. 

once upon a time i made a snarky little post about an extremely stupid ironwood take i scrolled past while blogwalking. somehow or another that ended up in front of one of the BNFs of rwby’s hatedom; he misinterpreted my point (because it was a vague snarky paragraph) and wrote a fairly harsh response based on that misinterpretation. there were several followers of mine in the notes kind of signaling an expectation that i was about to receive a barrage of harassment over this. 

i responded by:

clarifying that i didn’t mean the (genuinely awful!) thing he thought i was saying

indicating that i understood how/why he’d read the post that way and no hard feelings

elaborating in detail on what i did mean and why i thought that

and what happened?

the dude apologized for jumping to conclusions and being so caustic off the bat, then explained his own opinion and the thought process behind it. and that was that. the number of hostile angry anons i received was zero. the number of inane bad faith reblogs i got on other posts afterwards was zero.

now this is a basic, basic deescalating tactic but it’s also really illustrative of what i’m talking about when i say that hatedom isn’t motivated by a desire to bully fans  out of fandom because if it hadn’t been for the handful of people in the notes going basically, “oh no! it’s him! brace yourself!” i wouldn’t have known the guy was a hatedom BNF at all. his initial response to me was indistinguishable from the tantrums the dadpin people or that one penny truther throw in my inbox every now and then and frankly he was a lot more reasonable and mature about our differences of opinion than them once the misunderstanding was cleared up. 

like…

i’m not conflict averse at all. anyone who’s been following me for any significant length of time knows that, lmao. but i do try to lead with reasonable and presume good faith until proven otherwise and the thing is? that shuts down hatedom aggro fucking instantly. because people in hatedom are just… fans, really. fans who are usually pretty stoked to be treated like fellow fans instead of the enemy and will usually make an effort to rise to the occasion. 

and once you grok that hatedom becomes really quite simple to understand; the homogenous pan-fandom slurry of inane bullshit happens because fundamentally most people in hatedom like the story but rode the “fuck canon/yay fanon” train all the way to its very toxic and unpleasant last stop and now they’re kind of… stuck there trying to shout the cognitive dissonance away. most of them would be 1000% happier if they hopped the fence back to fandom and went “here’s my wish fulfillment power fantasy au fic that i’m writing for a target audience of Me” buuut there are a lot of social and emotional headwinds against that. 

so instead they make up wildly entertaining bullshit reasons a story is bad like “the animation is ugly” and “it’s bad writing not to explain how [completely mundane everyday thing that children can understand, like haircuts or the concept of money] works” and “how could the disney princess show have monarchy in it?!/how could the fairytale show have fairytales in it?!” and so forth. it just gets sillier and sillier forever.

[theultimatewritingsimp88]

i. am. back.

may i request ultimate dancer (s/o) x ultimate tennis pro?

but like i want to see hcs of their relationship slowly building.

(idk how to word that)

~✨✨Ofcourse✨✨~

Ryoma Hoshi x USHL dancer

-lets be honest... Any form of dance, you're a master... So when you and Ryoma met... He's just... "Why"...

-At first... You do it just to troll him... (Literally a dance similar to the gif)

🎾- why... Why are you like this?!

🪩- why not~

- slowly you two get closer... You like his tennis skills... He likes your dancing...

-FLUFF ALERT?! you teach him to dance! But to your surprise, he's a good dancer...

Here's where the romance starts...

-the exisals start attacking again... Yes Ryoma has his steel tennis balls... But he worries about you... All you can do is dance... Or so he thinks...

- your fighting is dance... So when a electro-bomb heads your way... You send that bitch ricochetting!

- Ryoma as jaw dropped and felt his heart skips 12 beats...

-he still fights along with you and the others... Be he just watches you... Your hair in the wind... That confident smile... Everything...

-after the fight... He is like a list kitten... Those big eyes of his sparkle the moment you enter the room...

- you two slowly get closer until HE confesses.

-ofcorse you say yes❤️

-tennis king is over the flipping moon for you✨❤️ and has never been happier...

Also here is monosuke busting a move

[hauntedwoman]

the elasticity of my brain must be insane how fast i ricochet between feeling like the hottest girl alive to an absolute troll

[demonkittyhangout]

DO NOT TRACE/COPY/REPOST/EDIT MY ART

Caved and a troll oc.

Ricochet the hard rock/classical troll.

[eruden-writes]

Raksha and Cordelia there’s only one bed?

This kind of applies to a scene later down the road. XD

But I wrote something entirely different, so enjoy!

Cordelia stood in Rakash’s quarters, staring at his work desk and shelving, full of bits and bobs. Following the wall, her attention landed on the staircase that led to a mezzanine-esque overhang, where his more private area sat. Heat razed up her back at the thought. Briefly, she considered retreating and actually sleeping on the floor. Or perhaps going to wake the triplets from where they had fallen asleep in the cot, Cordelia’s usual sleeping spot.

“This is not a good idea,” she mumbled just as Rakash entered his room after putting dinner in the ice box. 

“Why not?” He tilted his head, long ears twitch and his bi-sected tail twitching behind him. Part of him already knew what Cordelia was about to say. To say he didn’t share some of the same apprehension would have been a lie. But it was better to play dumb than acknowledge the mutual… issue.

“It’s just… well…” Cordelia pressed her lips tightly together, quieting her rambling. Her eyes flickered to Rakash, frustrated to find such an unflappable expression on his features. Fending off concerns of her own childishness, she crossed her arms and leaned into haughtiness, “You’re just too big. I’m sure there’s absolutely no room for me in your bed. I will feel like a sardine.” 

“Then you can lay on top of me.” It took all of Rakash’s self-restraint to maintain a steady expression. A teasing - dangerously flirtatious - grin threatened to part his lips.

“That’s not the only problem!” Cordelia fought down the heat climbing up her cheeks. Her mind raced for another excuse, her fingers digging into her arms. “Your bed probably stinks of you. And I don’t want to be tainted by your stench.” 

“You would rather sleep on the floor than share a bed with me?” 

He had her there. The floor certainly was not as inviting as his bed, with a built in warmer like Rakash himself. Cordelia’s mouth snapped shut and she looked away from him. Her barely tamped down blush flared to the surface, burning her cheeks. In her chest, her traitorous heart fluttered like a crazed bird. 

“I am too tired to argue,” Rakash finally said after waiting for a moment for Cordelia’s reply. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he ascended the stairs to the more private area of his quarters. If she followed, she followed. If not, she knew the options available.

Not too long afterward, the sound of Cordelia following after him caught Rakash’s attention. He half-turned, already stripped to a securely tucked loincloth for sleeping. “Decided to join me?”

Cordelia paused at the top of the stairs, eyes wide as she spotted him. And there was quite a lot to spot, she realized. He was wearing far less than she’d ever seen him wear. Her eyes trailed over his muscles, the curve of his pecs and biceps and thighs, his bare sturdy abdomen. The fur that started at the back of his shoulders, down his arms, down his legs. Her attention lingered half-a-second longer at the bulge slung in his tucked loincloth, before she remembered herself and tore her attention away. Despite having waited for her flush to die down, it ricocheted back over her face, reaching her ears. 

Turning away from Rakash, she meandered over to the bed. It was a simple thing, likely made by the troll father himself. The only thing that really differentiated it from any inn bed she slept in was its overly large size.

There was plenty of space, but there wasn't enough space to sleep next to Rakash in, as far as Cordelia was concerned. “Still going to be a tight fit.”

“Is this still about the bed or something else now?” A chuckle escaped Rakash, feeling his own steely restraint slipping. It was difficult to fight against, knowing how bashful Cordelia became when sincerely flustered. 

Cordelia spun so fast, her hair flared out behind her. Her wide eyes angry, even as the blush burned even hotter on her cheeks. With her eyes narrowing, she hissed, “What else would this be about?”

Silence strung out between them. Rakash debated on teasing Cordelia further while she leered, just daring him to continue down this route. He licked his lips, before speaking again, “Humans are small compared to trolls, so-” 

Rakash didn’t get a chance to finish as a pillow whumped against his face. 

“Lech,” Cordelia snapped, turning away from him to climb into the bed. She was already dressed simply, in a tunic and underthings, so removing anything seemed unnecessary. Much more so, considering what her bedmate just said.

As she loudly snuggled under the blankets and into the pillows, Rakash chuckled again, making tingles spark down her spine. He put out the lanterns before climbing into bed as well. Though he teased her, his own brand of apprehensive tension strung through him. He hadn’t shared a bed with another adult since his late wife, let alone with a woman. 

That thought made disconcerting sensations ripple through Rakash. He settled onto the far side of the bed, rolling his back to Cordelia as she did the same. It wasn’t long before she shifted, tossing and turning, huffing with agitation.

After ten minutes of attempting to sleep, Rakash sighed and rolled to face the floundering Cordelia. “What’s the matter?” 

“I can feel your body heat,” she groused, belly down on the mattress and face pressed into the pillow.

“So?” 

Peering up from the pillow, she glared at Rakash’s silhouette in the dark, knowing he could see her better with his dark sight. “It’s distracting.” 

“I see.” A beat of silence followed his insipid comment, before Cordelia felt his arm loop around her. 

He tugged her close to his front as she flailed and rolled to face him. Her hands pushed against his chest as her legs squirmed against him, trying to wriggle free without accidentally landing a knee somewhere sensitive. “Rakash, let go!” 

“I will when you settle down,” he replied, his arm neither loosening nor tightening around her midsection. Shamefully, part of him enjoyed how she moved against him. Even with her clothing in the way, he could sense her warmth and softness. It taunted some long-buried part of him. However, he clung to sensibility. “We’re both adults. We can handle this calmly.” 

His words made Cordelia’s struggles fall still. Her fingers curled against his chest as her legs ceased their shifting.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” She muttered, curling against Rakash. One of her legs shifted between his as her other looped around his hip. Even as she pressed her face to his chest, hiding it, he could feel the heat from her blush licking at his skin. “We’re both adults and adults have needs and desires. And those can complicate things.”

“True.” Rakash’s arm loosened its hold, testing to see if Cordelia would suddenly spring back with fervor. When she didn’t, his hand traced down her back. He couldn’t help but laugh a little as he teased, “You are certainly making things hard, considering where your thigh is right now.” 

There was a moment as her legs tightened around his leg, not helping his ‘hard’ situation in the slightest. “Shut up.” 

Rakash hummed, thoughts lazing between two options: sleep or pushing the situation further. The responsible part of him knew getting rest was the better option. What Cordelia had said was true; needs and desires could complicate situations. Still, her soft body pressed against him, her thigh moving minutely against his bulge as her fingers toyed with the fur at his hips… it was all tempting. 

Was he ready to fall to that temptation? Something in him twinged at the thought, especially as he remembered Cordelia wasn’t always going to be there. She was a temporary fixture in his household. Fighting against his growing allure, Rakash grudgingly asked, “Will you go to sleep if I am quiet?” 

For a long beat, Cordelia remained silent. Her own thoughts mirrored Rakash’s to some degree. Temptation and desire and want versus what was best for their situation. He didn’t need her. He didn’t even truly want her. They were simply two adults caring for three little trollings until the thaw. 

Those thoughts chilled the heat simmering in her. Cordelia swallowed, trying to shoo away all unhappy sensations and enticement as she mumbled, “Yes, just shush.” 

Rakash hummed in reply, but said no more. The two of them laid in bed, wrought with a confusing litany of emotions that both stoked and chilled the heat at their centers. In the end, they both eventually fell asleep, though they remained wrapped up in one another the entire night.

[stinkywormynoob]

What your favorite Rumble weapon says about you

Baseball Bat - You constantly get very close to enemies

Assault Rifle or Shotgun - You're either fine with simple weapons or don't like scavenging a lot

Handgun - You're either good at aiming or a masochist

Bazooka - You like explosions but not scavenging

Rocket Shield - You like being able to protect yourself and discouraging enemies with your durability

Plasma Blaster - You like ambushing in tight spaces or at least intimidating people with your fast ricocheting projectiles

Sentry Launcher - You're a troll

Sheep Launcher - You're a menace to society

Hammerhead - You're a menace to society... and yourself

[cicada-thebug]

I had no clue what any of this meant and then the word "Troll" slammed into my Crainum and ricocheted around my Dome until it hit the tiny part of my brain that understands that Homestuck exists

you:  single pure ships are the only way to ship without being problematic

me, an intellectual:

[stinkek]

Troll level design. When the string of balls gets close to the cat figurine, it's too late. The player shouldn't be forced to master ricocheting to get out of this situation.

[34goingon9]

Cheeseburger in Paradise

This story always gets me. The nature of its premise is so silly and wildly bizarre to the point that it’s almost comedic, except for the fact that it’s one of the scariest memories I have with my dad. It’s one of those stories that you just can’t make up.

My memory begins in the kitchen. My dad must have just gotten home from the bar in the evening around dinner time and he was one of the drunkest I had ever seen him. Many times I don’t think I realized completely the alcoholism and this time I thought he was being funny… until he wasn’t.

I come downstairs to my dad “cooking a cheeseburger.” When I say cooking a cheeseburger, I’m talking waving an overly oiled, greasy, sizzling hot pan at a complete 90 degree vertical angle with a handmade ball of meat slap-dab in the middle. American cheese is oozing down the sides burning a char in the corners of the overly processed slice of dairy. Scorching hot oil is ricocheting off the pan at his face and in every direction like a shotgun blast. My dad’s arm is conducting the cooking show like the inflatable figures outside of car dealerships instead of a well orchestrated symphony. Gordon Ramsay would NOT have been impressed.

“What are you doing?” I would ask my dad playfully.

“I’m CoOkiNg a ChEeSeBurGeR 🍔 “ My dad would respond slurring his words as he confidently waves the metal pan around like a flag.

This exchange would continue back and forth several times. Each time, things would escalate further somehow. Not always aware and somewhat naive towards the extent and unpredictability of my dad’s alcoholism, I remember giggling more and more at watching his performance and the way he was responding as he answered me. I think I even was trying to film him on my new state of the art 2 megapixel cell phone because of how outrageous things looked. I could tell that I was starting to provoke him after a certain point of repeating the same things back and forth to one another with his tone becoming slightly more aggressive, but I did not realize how much I was poking the bear or when I had crossed the threshold of no return. Suddenly, the bottle cap flew off and my dad exploded like mentos in a coke bottle.

“THIS is what I’m FUCKING DOING!!”

At this moment my dad took his eyes off the pan and turned them towards me. They were hollow and black but they also seemed to possess the same fire that was heating the pan he was using. I remember as our eyes met, I felt both the color in my complexion and my over all soul drain down from the top of my head and out my feet like someone opened a valve pipe. In this moment I also began to RUN as I saw my dad lunge towards me as he screamed. I dodged out of the way at the last second before my dad managed to grab a loaf of bread behind me.

Having the advantage of being a traumatized competitive gymnast with an adrenaline rush and my contender being a belligerent, stumbling troll emerging from under the bridge.. I sprinted ahead of him up the stairs. I ran past my sister into her room who was oblivious to what had just unraveled downstairs and hid behind her desk in the corner of her room.

My dad’s footsteps can be heard stomping up the stairs like some kind of “ fee fi fo fum!” in the stillness as I awaited his presence in fear.

He storms past my sisters room which is the first one you pass as you get up to the second floor. The two of us DID NOT get along and never had, but I can’t blame the ways she resented me because of the way I became her responsibility. Nonetheless, she knew her job was to protect me and she did so to the best of her angsty pre-teen ability.

My dad continues to pass my bedroom and turns the corner to his room. I cannot physically see him but I can sense his demeanor and movements like a looking glass and I know time is running out like grains of sand. After a short time of a drunkenly thorough search, he continues to move back through the hall and retrace his steps. I can feel him look into my room like a predator which is like a small cubby. He quickly moves on to the last room and finds that third times a charm.

I am frozen standing in the corner barricaded by my sister’s desk. My sister remains sitting propped on her bed interrupted by the hurricane that just came through her doors. My dad’s face appears in her doorway. He is standing there like the grim reaper but instead of being armed with a scythe, he has a death grip on his loaf of bread.

He sees me and makes a bee-line for it. My sister hops off the bed but my dad makes contact with me behind the desk before she can make the first interference. He screams his words that are still ringing in my ears like tinnitus from just moments earlier, only this time grabbing me and smothering the loaf of bread into my face as he viciously repeats ‘THIS is what he’s FUCKING doing.’

Natalija intercepts and somehow manages to pull my enormous and sloppy father off of me and ensures I can breathe. She puts herself in between us and is pushing him away with her arms outstretched and guiding him towards the door as she is yelling in utter hatred and frustration at him.

“GET OUT!!!! NO ONE WANTS YOU HERE!!! GO BACK TO THE BAR!!! GET OUT!! JUST GET OUT!!!!!”

I do not know why, but my dad listens to this and retreats back downstairs. The dust has by no means settled but the immediate threat is now at least removed from proximity. I am scared and I cannot stay as the risk is too high. My dad is unpredictable in every sense of the word, just like how he flipped at me just prior. There is a chance he could completely forget, or he could see me and immediately be set off again. I live in a household of Russian roulette and you never know when the bullet is going to go off in the chamber.

(Furthermore, though it’s a bit late to figure out how to fit into this story, I believe this was the night my dad was also taking wads of cash out of his wallet every five minutes and handing it to me. I think this added to the bizarre nature of his behavior and why I was particularly childish towards egging him on about “what he was doing.” Also, when I say wads of cash, this is not a childhood exaggeration. My dad had a high paying job and was able to be a functional alcoholic through his cocaine addiction. He had money and he always had plenty on him to spare just in case. My father was always generous with money and gifts to make up for his behavior but this night was not like that. I had probably amassed $1,000 completely unbeknownst to him for no reason. He just kept handing it to me like a broken ATM dispenser.)

Standing in my sister’s room, I am faced with a difficult decision but I know she is neither the target and able to assert herself in ways I cannot. I still have guilt towards leaving her that night, but soon after I must have called my best friend Jaime. I have no idea what was said in exchange, but it was without hesitation that her father arrived at my house to pick me up to spend the night with them. I faced the predicament where I could not go down the stairs and run the risk of my dad hearing me let alone know I was leaving. My trampoline was located below my sisters window, so I crawled out and jumped off the roof onto it. I can remember seeing Mike’s black Toyota Rav 4 off in the distance like a mirage but grass, not sand, was rubbing past my ankles as I ran towards safety that was thankfully not a hallucination or in my imagination.

I don’t remember the rest of this evening. I don’t know if any of us talked about what happened. I do know that the Spiegel’s home was a safe haven for me then and for years to come- even into present day. I mean that in the sense that they not just provided me safe shelter, but also showed me unconditional love and treated me like real family during a particularly sensitive time that I didn’t even understand how bad things were because it was my norm. Regardless, my dad cared more about his appearance to the world than my actual well-being and I remember the next morning being scared in anticipation towards his reaction. There were times where I had to leave overnight for my safety but would wake up berated by my father because in reality, I had exposed his secrets to the outside world which was a no-no. I do want to say this time my dad did not question this decision. This isn’t to say I got an apology either. Things were glazed over. Perhaps I got a sorry in the form of one of his coincidental next-day Bloomingdale hauls, but I don’t think that was even the case here. Either way, life resumed and it wouldn’t be long before the cycle repeated itself.

This memory is a painful one and has as much gaps as it has vividness.

Putting it down for now. But I did give him back all the cash.

[writer59january13]

I dread the United States presidential 2024 outcome...

Whereby yours truly presages and doth abhor nothing short of an imminent civil war dwarfing insurrection on January 6, 2021 oddly enough even reducing ordinary decibels to a mute whisper madding crowd trumpeting cacophony of ˈthȯr drowning out sense and sensibility allowing, enabling, and providing golden opportunity for anarchy to run rampant one issuing, earthshaking, and booming as one collective soul with pride

against prejudice queercore amidst pandemonium of lawlessness voices at the forefront ear splitting din most all social media platforms buzzfeeding, jump/kickstarting, and twittering bigotry, gender inequity, and misogyny nevermore gender diversity celebrated reveling harmoniously think arranged marriage of Kokila and Kishore

parents (most likely deceased)

of Menil and Amit,

one former best high school buddy

with my youngest sister Shari Todd for most of her sixty three years an herbivore, and in most respects the antithesis of Eeyore, (a pessimistic, gloomy, depressed, anhedonic, old grey stuffed donkey and friend of title character, Winnie-the-Pooh), the former would never stand a chance stayin alive during the reign of brontosaur, and other so called terrible lizards. Aforementioned fatalistic political forecast

would translate as absolute zero freedoms as entrusted with Declaration of Independence, and Constitution, which incendiary rhetoric already trumpeted courtesy Republican dictator wannabe, who will eviscerate

any and all social progressive policies would essentially leave a rump government devoid of recognizable Democratic polity. Lemme plagiarize myself and express sardonic wit alliteration with the letter "R," I gleefully, playfully, and zestfully transmit the following poem, the proto antagonist will nary even garner an obit

no dead giveaway signs only brave hearts pointing middle finger subtly signaling welcome to the black parade, the sole intermit where gewgaws (trolls) with orange hair sold. revealing Ronald Rump revisited. Regarding ridiculous rhymeless ruminative rhythm rankles readers. Repugnant racist Republican reviled - rickettsia re:itch ruler rapaciously ravaged revered reverential rubric radical ruthless renegade rapidly riotously rips rigged ramparts Refrains retaining remnant redolent regal, resplendent rafters riches rudely rupture rooted rectified rights ruckus ricochets revenant reign ratified rattlebrained rules roil reductionism. rumbustious rapscallions rollick; render ruinous ramifications rusty razor razing revenge rents reprisal. Rabid rectal rictus rotten rebrands re-calibrate. rambunctious revolutionaries rejoice. ruffians ride roughshod routing reigning royalty. Reiterate revetting robust recidivist rationality rides Rolls Royce relentlessly rendering rock ribbing. Riffraff raconteur raise reactionary response revisit rancorous restrictive redlined realigned rightward rivets Robocop ridiculously rubber-stamped reorganization recalcitrant reactors release rapture rash Russian roulette reconnaissance raconteurs rack rubles. Red room reflects Republican RNA. rap risible rheumy ratiocinated rug-rats revoke righteous refulgent repertory rapier robed robbers ransack reliquary resounding retaliation retaliatory redcoat regnum reformation rightly remembered Rudy robotically recoiling rapprochement Raison d'être rosily revered rifled relics raffled rookie raves ripe rackful rubenesque reliably ranked refulgent rotundity requisite requirement re: reappointment road-tested, roadworthy redeem reapportion routed role. Reprehensible reassignment rapidly recognizes response rife rampage removes respectability responsible roused restitution refuted risky resultant reconnoitering runaway railroad reverberates rivalry. Reflexive ramrod reaction reconfirms redoubling ridding revitalization reconfiguration realpolitik reinstates repudiation; Rebooting Roosevelt regime reconsidered. Requisition requires resilient reseeding republic regrettable riley roars remorseless ribbing rare recount restoring recondite renown reprobate Rapunzel.

Republican representatives rejoice reclaiming reins registering retarded romantic remains re: Rastafarian revered reliquary rests!

[metalshockfinland]

BOKASSA Ricochet into 2024 with Bold New Single + Video 'The Ending Starts Today'

Photo by Troll Toftenes Norway’s wryest export BOKASSA welcomes the new year by dropping possibly their most sardonic single yet. After touring with Therapy? right up to the Christmas festivities, BOKASSA barely pauses for breath, ricocheting into 2024 with the release of bold new single “The Ending Starts Today.” BOKASSA states:“What better than to start 2024 with a brand new “demotivational…