#because he is objectively a loser and very embarrassing

[enn0s]

✨️🦊✨️

[midnightorchids]

Ok so I was thinking about this the other day. You know how Dick is usually a detective or a cop? Imagine Jason as a firefighter.

Mans will lift you like you’re nothing and I bet he’s in one of those firemen calendars.

I honestly think he would be amazing as a firefighter.

IM SCREAMING!! Here are some firefighter!Jason headcanons, I hope you like them!

- firefighter!Jason has a sleeve, his tattoos are all over the place, but they’re cohesive and very aesthetically pleasing

- he has a small calcifer (the little fire demon from howls moving castle) tattoo hidden somewhere on his arm

- he adores his job because he loves helping and protecting people

- he’s kinda cringey and he makes fire/heat puns and jokes when he’s on duty

- children LOVE him because he’s so kind

- he always volunteers to do tours of the fire station with kindergarten and middle school kids

- he hands out lollipops and stickers at the end of each tour

- he’s really strong and can lift anyone (regardless of their weight or height), he spends a lot of time training his body and is very proud of it

- he is low key a SLUT!!! let me elaborate: yk when firefighters wear their uniform only around their waist and legs, and the top half is like a normal shirt…? yeah so imagine that with Jason.

- he walks around the fire station wearing a black compression shirt and it’s hugging his body so deliciously. you can see bits of his silver chain sticking out and his tattoos are on display… he looks so HOT (noo im turning into cringey fire pun Jason…)

- when he first joined the force, he thought that saving cats and animals from trees wouldn’t be a common occurrence

- it was. and he took home two strays.

- he named them arson and sparks (shout out to the two cats i saw at the pet store)

- as much as Jason is a silly little guy, he also takes his job very seriously

- he spends time comforting victims and trying his best to make sure that they’re safe

- if there’s a house fire, he tries to save everything but definitely does prioritize items that could be sentimental or of value

- he never leaves candles burning for too long, same with irons and stoves

- he is very careful and constantly warning people about potential fires and the consequences of not being careful around hot objects

- okay let’s go back to silly

- this one time the guys at the station made a bet and the loser had to take pictures for a “hot firefighter” calendar… yeah… Jason lost…

- his shirtless pictures were plastered all over the station the next day and he wasn’t even embarrassed

- he’d just smile when people mentioned it

[mangyraccooon]

I inflict on you my modern dragodile brainrot

Random thoughts that I didn’t have energy to draw

- this is the only “safe” timeline from the canon event (divorce) ie they never fell out (their best selves)

- croc would’ve killed at rugby (I base pre transition croc off of a American rugby player Ilona Maher, she’s amazing fr)

- dragon is the singer/ front man of the punk rock band revolutionary army or the “revs”

- croc runs baroque works a company that deals with property development

- everyone at baroque works thought croc was a widower for like the longest time (it’s seriously embarrassing)

- croc 100% stares at the billboard whenever he misses his husband is bored

- dragons music is like des rocs mixed with falling in reverse (one day i animate bad girls club)

- they have matching tattoos (for luffy)

While they are both very cool they immediately become massive losers whenever within 10 ft of Luffy

Some examples

Crocodile losing his reading glasses on his head

Dragon shrieking when startled (he had headphones in)

Both running into a solid object while staring at the other; pole, door, car, wall

They have a super solid partnership (mainly because they are ok being on their own, they don’t have to be with each other 24/7) it’s not the classic I need you in my life it’s I don’t need you but I want you in my life.

[enhypencores]

Bleed Me Dry

Lee Heeseung X Y/N

Genre: Yandere Romance/ Thriller/ Stalker

Prompt: "If I carve you into my blood, will you believe my love?"

Word Count: 7K+

WARNING⚠️: Explicit content, profanity, sexual harassment, heated make outs, female stereotyping, use of a derogatory word, violence, lots of blood, aggression, toxic masculinity, yandre, manipulation, mentions of self exit, unhealthy relationships and mental health issues. Y/N described with long hair and brown eyes.

Cameos: Jake, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Yeji, Karina, Jaemin and Jisung

A/N: Please read the warnings carefully before proceeding. There's heavy discussions and complex character dynamics. None of it is healthy. This is a work of fiction, please read it as such. If I missed out any, lemme know.

Heeseung watched you, mentally tracing the curve of your bottom lip as you awaited the bus, your nose scrunching in disgust at the passing smokers. The fullness of your cheeks flushed red as the scorching heat streamed through your hand’s barrier, and the silky strands of brown hair cascaded down your neck as you climbed up the bus. Your forehead wrinkled as you leaned down to scan your card, and your nimble steps took you to the end row. Sweat drops trickled down the bony line of your collarbone, dipping into your white collar, dampening the fabric as your eyes rolled back and your head fell slack against the teetering glass window.

This was his sign.

He strutted through the door and beelined towards the back. He was so close to settling down, just another step, and he'd be enveloped in your presence when all his plans fell through the window. He halted, his eyes widening in disbelief as a boy settled beside you, unaware of the fury he had just unleashed within Heeseung's blood. Heeseung swallowed the colourful words itching up his throat and forced himself into the seat behind, away from you.

He stared at the gap between your shoulders, bitterness pooling in his chest. Each time the boy's arm brushed against yours, Heeseung's restraint wavered, his nails digging into his palm as he envisioned tearing the boy's joint off for daring to feel you. His temper flared when he spotted your oblivious frame, still, sound asleep like a princess in the comfort of her sheets. You were so perplexingly naive, falling asleep in a bus full of men waiting to pounce on meek girls like yourself. It usually took around forty-five minutes for you to reach home, but you could've at least placed your bag on the vacant seat so no one—except him—would take the spot beside you.

Heeseung trained his gaze on his wristwatch, every tick of the short hand's movement making him lose his mind. He could've been the one pressed against your shoulders, bathing in your essence, had that loser found another spot. Fortunately, he didn't have to dwell in misery for long because at the very next stop, the loser grabbed his bag from the floor, preparing to leave. Heeseung analysed his watch.

Ten minutes. Gone.

Ten minutes he could've spent right beside you.

The boy stood alert, pressing the button, and the bus came to a standstill. As he stepped through the aisle, his foot landed against a round object, throwing him off balance and sending him tumbling to the ground with his jawline scraping against the hard floor. The entire bus gasped in unison as the boy sat up, his frantic gaze searching for the perpetrator.

A round basketball swirled by his feet.

"Shit, that slipped. My bad," Heeseung muttered, standing from his seat and holding out his hand with an apologetic smile, which the unsuspecting boy accepted with an embarrassed grin.

Heeseung watched the boy rub at his injured chin, confused at the ball's magical appearance as he tugged on his bag's strap and stammered out of the bus with an obvious limp.

Hopefully, that injury lasted ten days to account for the ten precious minutes of Heeseung's life.

Immediately, Heeseung turned back, glancing at your limp frame. His heart raced at the sight. He took small, calculated steps before gently lowering himself into the seat beside you. At the first brush of your elbow, Heeseung's body grew warm, heart drumming faster within his chest. He itched to press his entire body against yours. For now, however, he slightly edged closer, letting your clothed shoulder graze his arm, his eyes rolling shut at the subtle contact.

For the past month, he was a silent observer, watching you walk from your university to the bus, bus to your house in a disciplined schedule. It became part of his very routine. He would wait around your campus at 3:00 sharp to follow you onto the bus and spend the next blissful forty-five minutes watching you sleep away. Heeseung would climb off at your stop, ensuring you crossed the road safely. Only when your back disappeared into the villa and yellow lights at the right-end corner flickered to life would Heeseung return to get a bus back.

He was watching over you to keep you safe. The world lurked with dangers, and you were so innocent, so beautiful, so mesmerizing, so agonizingly weak like a frail flower in a garden full of cacti. He had no option but to take on the role of a silent guardian, protecting you from the world. He told himself he valued your safety. But deep down, he knew it was more than that. He needed to be near you, to feel your presence, to submerge within your life and become a part woven for your pleasure.

Usually, he stayed a safe distance away to admire your presence. A week ago, he stared at the empty seat with longing. Like an addiction, his tolerance had grown. Seeing you from afar wasn't enough. He wanted to feel your presence. His body automatically followed his yearning, getting up and climbing into the seat beside yours.

And since then, he couldn't get enough.

All of a sudden, Heeseung's focus wavered as the bus came to an abrupt halt. He impulsively brought his arm around your frame, viciously eyeing the driver for his rash turn. As he felt something drop against his shoulder, Heeseung froze. He gulped carefully, turning to inspect you.

His insides twisted in joy. The sight of your sleeping frame leaning against him with your head on his shoulder was enough to make him forget his annoyance at the bus driver. Heeseung shifted closer to let your head rest in the crevice of his neck.

His breath hitched at the contact; your face pressed firmly into his bare neck. Flesh on flesh. His hand clenched into a strained fist, nails digging into his palm, leaving indents as your warm breath nuzzled down his collarbone and spread to his chest. He looked down at your unresponsive frame and realised he had never seen you so up close.

With the closer angle, he noticed washed-out freckles like sand dust trailing down your nose. Your eyelashes were curled black, resting low on your cheeks angelically. Your mouth was cutely pressed into a light pout against his top, your nose squished into his collarbones, making his hairs rise.

Heeseung urged himself to calm down. If you heard the frantic pacing of his heart, you'd wake up before he had the chance to revel in your skin's warmth. He breathed in the scent of fresh vanilla, something inside his abdomen stirring as he realised how you might leave him smelling like yourself, like a protective feline, marking their territory. Heeseung smiled, his body automatically turning towards you, eyes shining in anticipation.

Your body craved him just as badly as he craved you.

Thirty-five minutes passed by in the blink of an eye. He didn't even register the familiar streets treading along the window, his sight and mind filled with images of your pretty face when suddenly your phone beeped, jerking you awake. Heeseung swore under his breath, body recoiling in complaint as you pulled away, grabbing the phone in your jeans pocket and shutting off the alarm. He forced himself to look the other way, his breathing unsteady as he restrained the urge to yank you back.

Roused awake, you quickly stood alert, pressing the button, your knees accidentally bumping into the stranger's legs as you proceeded to step out of the aisle. You turned back to look at the masked man. 

He watched, breath-held, heart thudding.

His wide eyes met yours, and you gave him a suppressed smile before walking off.

Goosebumps. His head felt like jelly, mind straining to grasp at the smile you sent his way—a smile meant for him—not the kind one you give the shopkeeper when he hands you your groceries—not the empathetic one you flash to the older citizens slowly climbing the bus—not the patient one you give to the raucous bikers outside the campus—a soft, sweet, and memorable smile. Only for him.

Heeseung was so dazed that he simply forgot to get off at the stop with you. Instead, he sat rigid, attempting to process the burst of emotions within his chest. He looked down and—thank fuck he did because he might’ve missed it if he was preoccupied in following behind. There, on his grey flannel, an inch lower from his collar, was a wet mark that belonged to you. Not only did you leave him smelling like your vanilla body wash, but you also stained him with your saliva.

His heart thrummed. He pulled his mask down. With his lower region tingling, his hand instinctively grabbed at the collar to pull the wet fabric into his mouth. Head dropping back, his vision blurred, his body tightening at the first taste of your mouth.

He lapped at the spot like a starved man, his legs pressing together to relieve some of the tension in his painfully hard centre. Sweat built up in his clenched fist as he sucked the fabric and rolled his tongue against it, wishing he could feel it directly from your mouth rather than the brittle cotton of his shirt. His desires had climbed up a new ladder; nothing was enough anymore. He needed to lap at the delicate roundness of your lips, suck off your taste from inside, and drown his tongue in its heat.

He needed you, physically, emotionally—unabashed and unhidden.

It was time.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Extracurriculars were starting to take a toll on your mental health. You were already part of the university’s student advisory council and head of the reading club. With exams looming and Miss Sol’s exhaustive dance training sessions, you were certain you would either fail all your exams or get home on a stretcher. For the past week, you had been getting home around sunset, but today, you finished training earlier. Giddily, you jumped onto the bus, excited to get home and munch on ramen before your older brother got his hands on it.

You sat in your usual backseat and immediately fell asleep.

When your alarm blared, you quickly silenced your phone and got up, pressing the button to alert the bus driver. You glanced to your side, expecting to see the masked man who had unknowingly become your bus ride companion, but his seat was vacant. Confused, you glanced around, but only saw aged faces and school students. 

Strange. You assumed he was a college student like yourself, never skipping a day.

You shrugged, climbed off the bus and made your way across the main road toward your house. As you strutted inside the villa, a blinding object flashed past your vision, clashing against your torso and shoving you to the floor. You looked up furiously.

The culprit, your smug brother with his blonde hair falling against his eyes, kneeled down to grab the basketball. “Weren’t you supposed to get home late?” His accusatory tone made you want to scratch the smirk off his mouth.

“Oh, sorry for colliding into your ball.” You smiled sarcastically, standing up. His sardonic smile widened.

“Don’t do it again, little sis,” he grinned, and your patience flew out the window. You jumped up to grab his hair, but as if anticipating your attack, he dodged, sprinting down the hallway with the ball cocooned in his embrace.

“Sim Jaeyun!” You screeched, chasing him through the lounge and out the backdoor toward the inbuilt basketball court. 

You never hated your short height, but in moments like these, you wished you had inherited your father’s long legs. As you watched him speed up beside the basketball court, you frustratedly changed your route, dashing into the square-shaped arena, running diagonally, hoping the Pythagorean theorem would help you reach Jake faster.

With your gaze trained on your target, you saw Jake dribble the ball ahead as you blindly ran down the court, so blind that you didn’t notice a taller figure standing in your way. You collided into a frame, slamming against a hard chest, sending you both tumbling to the ground. You gasped, eyes bulging out as a pair of brown eyes stared at you, wide with panic.

You muttered a rushed apology, attempting to get up when you noticed his arms were locked around your waist protectively.

“Get off Heeseung, you midget!” Jake yelled, nearing your limp frame. You gave him a scorned glare, sitting up as the man’s arms slowly fell away. You stood up together as Jake dribbled his basketball, an amused grin on his features.

Sourly glaring, you didn’t hesitate to whip Jake with your bag. He groaned, almost flinging the basketball at you when the black-haired man pushed ahead immediately, blocking your brother’s aggression.

“She’s a menace. Let me deal with it,” Jake bitterly told the stranger.

“Shut up, Jake! You’re the menace in this household,” you huffed, glaring at him.

Then, your gaze settled back on the brown-eyed man, and your cheeks flushed red as you surveyed the stranger’s features. Ethereal. Big eyes as naïve as a deer’s, a peculiarly sharp nose, plump, wet lips, and dark ebony hair—the man was majestic. Dressed in a grey tank top and trousers, sweat clung to his tan skin, dripping down his well-built biceps like honey. He seemed to have walked straight out of a sports tournament.

“Who’s this?” You blurted out, eyeing the handsome man with flushed cheeks.

“Heeseung, a friend. Heeseung, this is Y/N, unfortunately, related to me.” You smacked your bag into his stomach, pushing him back as he doubled over and clutched his torso, glaring at you through his gold bangs. 

“That’s no way to treat your younger sister, Jake,” Heeseung's stern voice oozed masculine charm—almost giving you whiplash. His reprimanding made your brother’s temper dissolve, and he unclenched his jaw, nodding obediently. You stared, baffled at the sudden shift in his demeanour.

You had never seen your older brother submissively agree with anyone—not even your parents. Having a one-year age gap, the older child's privilege, and spoiled treatment from your parents really did a number on him. His friend group consisted of boys who worked like dogs to gain his acceptance, and your brother bathed in the glory. He wasn’t overtly arrogant, but good grades and amazing basketball performances would make anyone feel like they owned the world. Not to mention, his faked kind personality had everyone running laps. You can’t even count how many hearts he’d broken from middle school to university. 

Watching him listen to Heeseung, you could tell he was someone important to your brother.

You glanced back at the towering man. He even carried himself with an air of indifference, intimidating yet undeniably attractive, commanding everyone’s interest. Under the sunlight, his pupils glowed like lit candles, growing small into a crescent shape as a warm smile grazed his lips, his gaze softening. Tousled strands fell into his dreamy eyes as he nodded. Baffled, you wondered how one second, he seemed like an intimidating adult, reprimanding the kids, and the other moment, he appeared boyish and charming, his eyes brimming with youthful energy. 

“Y/N.” Your name rolled off his tongue like butter, making your insides curl.

The night you met him, you stalked your brother’s account to find that intriguing man. You scoured through hundreds of Jake’s irrelevant followers, desperately searching for an account starting with the letter H. To your disappointment, no such account existed.

You wondered if Heeseung was old school and went down a rabbit hole, searching through the depths of Facebook. Lee Heeseung—his name in itself was traditional and old, so you didn’t even come across any likely accounts. You gave up and tried asking Jake; however, your brother rarely answered any of your questions. You had no choice but to wait for another encounter. 

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Like a surprising miracle, the next encounter came earlier than expected. A week later, you were buried in exam questions, struggling to absorb the entire pharmacology textbook, when the doorbell rang. You tried to ignore it, but after several insistent rings, you begrudgingly stomped to the door. You weren’t expecting anyone; your parents were at a dinner party, and Jake was at a cram class. You mentally prepared yourself to scream at the neighbour’s kids who frequently stood outside your door to mess around. 

You flung the door open, ready to unleash your frustrations, when your jaw dropped. The familiar round eyes met yours, kickstarting a joyous flutter of butterflies in your stomach. Heeseung stood as handsome as the first day, wearing a black hoodie and jeans. He carried a bunch of hefty books, his gaze searching behind you.

“Y/N,” he called your name, and your ears reddened. He enunciated each syllable as if he knew you for ages, called you it for ages.

“Jaeyun left some astrophysics books at my place.” He peered at the stack in his hold.

You smiled apologetically because, of course, your forgetful brother did. 

“He’s out right now,” you told him. “But that’s alright, I’ll take these.” His smile softened as he held out the books. You stepped closer, circling your arm around the stack, but your weak arms failed to carry the weight, embarrassingly almost dropping them to the floor. 

Heeseung quickly tightened his hold on the books, pulling back with a teasing smile. “I’ll take them in,” he stated. Before you could reject his kindness, he stepped inside, pausing in the hallway.

You led him to the lounge, where he kept the books on the wooden table. You offered him a smile as your heart beat frantically. Watching him stand close in your vicinity when you were home alone felt like all your prayers had been answered.

He turned to look at you, pulling back the strands that had fallen against his vision. A smile stretched his lips. “You were studying?” He asked, his voice low yet echoing in the empty hall. Your lips parted, eyes wide in shock.

“How’d you know?” You questioned incredulously.

His smile morphed into a grin. Wordlessly, he reached out and gently pulled the pencil from your hair. The hair bun unravelled, brown strands running down your neck, grazing his fingertips as something flickered in his gaze. He watched the soft layers frame your face. You giggled, face warming up. You tried to grab the pencil, but Heeseung pulled it away, smirking at your embarrassment.

“Let me guess, pharmacology is kicking your ass?” He scoffed, and you gasped in retaliation.

“Now, how do you know my degree?” You stared in confusion.

He chuckled. “Your brother says it’s your worst decision.”

Fucking Sim Jaeyun. Always ruining your reputation everywhere with his big ass mouth.

You sighed, rolling your eyes in frustration. You somewhat disliked your crush knowing about your crisis with that god-awful degree.

“I’m doing fine,” you bitterly claimed. “I ace Biochem and almost every other module. Anatomy is just from the depths of hell,” you spewed some irrelevant achievements, immediately cringing at how self-indulgent you sounded.

God, you were pathetic. You wondered if Heeseung saw through your façade.

Heeseung shifted his weight onto his right leg. “I can help,” he offered, a flamboyant grin flashing across his features as he nodded at your shocked expression. “I ace Anatomy all the time,” he mocked your tone, lips twisting in a teasing smile.

You huffed. Guys usually scored seventy per cent and flaunted it like they won a Nobel prize. “What’s your highest test score?” Your overconfident-self asked, folding your arms over your chest with an egoistic smile.

He watched silently for a moment before returning that sharp smile.

“3.9.”

Pfft. You rolled your eyes, grabbing at your hair in frustration. Was Heeseung as annoying as Jake? “Real funny,” you scoffed, wishing you could erase the smugness off his handsome face.

“3.9 GPA in premed.”

Oh.

Your overconfidence deflated like a balloon. Heeseung smirked and stepped closer, arms folded over his lean chest, mocking your demeanour.

“So?”

You nervously gulped, stepping back from his overwhelming presence. This tall, gorgeous man had casually revealed his Einstein-level intelligence, and now, you felt utterly stupid, crying over some basic anatomy. Even Jake struggled to maintain a decent 3.5.

Your eyes widened as you registered the situation again. Heeseung was offering his help. Even if he thought you were stupid, you could change that, prove him wrong and possibly gather more information about him through a tutoring session, for example, unearth his socials. You could probably get closer and know more.

With your decision made, you nodded at him.

“Alright.”

Heeseung felt like he’d plummet to the floor in relief. He watched the curiosity in your doe eyes gleam as you determinedly stepped towards the hallway, walking up the stairs. He took the first step, his knees trembling as he watched you peppily jump to the right-end door. You were showing him the way to your bedroom.

Your bedroom.

Heeseung’s body fired up like an overheated kettle, his muscles tensing against the railing. You pushed the door open and stepped inside, turning to wait for him. How naïve. How fucking naïve. You had opened up your home, welcomed him inside, and now you were leading him into your personal space, the small corner in this massive house that belonged solely to you, the corner he was used to seeing from outside the house. 

Were you that stupid?

He had seen your parents leave in glamorous attire with a bouquet of flowers, indicating they'd be gone for a substantial time. Jake wasn’t home, attending cram school from 6:00 to 8:00 pm. That left you… vulnerable and alone.

Despite his resolve to wait a good two weeks before visiting again, Heeseung’s patience had worn thin. That initial meeting, feeling your soft curves press into his chest as you toppled over him, had ignited a craving in him. Your scent mingled with his, your body fitting perfectly against him—it had all transcended his tolerance. He had felt his internal organs shift with momentary bliss, his body reacting as if you were made to be felt by him.

Now he was here, in your house, in your presence.

He knew the moment he stepped into your room, he couldn’t leave until he made you his, in some way, in any way. Anticipation bubbled in his veins as he rushed up the stairs.

“Heeseung?”

He froze, his body whipping around to face the intruder. His gaze turned to steel, jaw tightening at the sight of a confused Jake standing in the doorway.

Sim—Fucking—Jaeyun, the brother who wasn’t supposed to be home for at least another hour.

“Jake?” you inquired, stepping back out and shutting your door. Heeseung’s fists clenched as he stared at the closed door, frustration churning in his stomach. So close. He had been just a step away from entering your room.

Beneath that door lay the key to your heart. Access to your room meant understanding your interests, habits, likes, and dislikes, transforming himself into the man you dreamed of. Jake was a limited source. How much does a brother really talk about his sister?

“What’re you doing here?” Jake questioned as Heeseung and you descended the stairs.

“He was here to drop off the books you read as a useless hobby, so I asked for help with Anatomy,” you explained, smiling at Heeseung, who now seemed oddly stern.

Jake snickered, pulling off his baseball cap to let blonde locks fall into his eyes. “You’re pestering my friend for anatomy?” He chuckled as you rolled your eyes.

“No, I offered,” Heeseung replied, his tone sharp and cutting through. You turned your head in confusion at his sudden change in demeanour. “Don’t you stay for an extra lesson?” Heeseung raised his brow, seemingly well-versed in Jake’s schedule.

“Yeah, but they let us out early since we’ve covered the semester,” Jake responded, indifferent to Heeseung’s tone, as he tossed his bag onto the floor.

“Up for a round of LOL?” Jake rubbed his palms together in excitement.

Heeseung’s cold gaze changed with a hint of amusement as he nodded. He turned to you, his smile languid. “Sorry Y/N, League of Legends will always be my first choice,” he declared.

“It’s cool, I’ll survive,” you scoffed, jogging back up the stairs and closing your door to resume studying.

Dropping into the armchair, your thoughts drifted to the sudden shift in atmosphere at Jake’s arrival. Jake and Heeseung’s friendship seemed...strange. Your brother followed Heeseung’s lead without question, even overlooking his friend's occasional indifference. Jake, a softie, who would give you the silent treatment for calling him a nerd, yapping about ‘she called me a bad word’ to your mother, seemed unfazed by Heeseung’s intimidating nature.

Shaking your head, you forced your attention back to your studies, determined to focus despite the lingering curiosity.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Another round. 

Another one.

One more.

Heeseung was losing patience, hectically pressing buttons on the Nintendo Switch, his fingers straining to match his brain’s pace. With a hazy vision, Heeseung turned to inspect Jake. Finally, the blonde had lost his will to play, dropping to the couch as snores wracked his frame. It had taken five gruelling hours of continuous rounds, but it would all be worth it.

The opportunity had presented itself, Heeseung internally reasoned. He didn’t sneak into your house or anything— he had greeted your parents when they returned and even ate some snacks your mother had lovingly offered. He was not an intruder. He was a guest, and now the guest was wandering in search of a bathroom. He knew Jake’s bathroom was down the hall, but he purposely overlooked that route, opting instead to tread up the staircase. With every step, rugged creaks whispered in the darkness, but Jake’s tumultuous snores helped mask his motives. 

Soon, he was standing before your door. And this time, he was unstoppable because no one would bother you at 3 AM.

Breath held, lips pressed in silent tension, he pulled at the handle and slipped inside. A thicker blanket of darkness clouded his vision. Freezing against the door, Heeseung blinked rapidly, determined to accommodate his vision. Streaks of streetlight treaded inside from the edge of the curtain, letting him finally see his surroundings, and he turned to inspect the room.

A study desk toppled with bulks of books and papers with sharpies and pens laid at the edge. Heeseung quietly stepped towards it, his finger grazing the neat text, written with keen attention. His chest tingled when he imagined you pepped up on the swivelling chair, jotting down intricate notes with such pretty handwriting. By the look of it, he could tell you were at the top of your studies, a beauty with brains.

Heeseung noticed your phone charging on the edge of the table and quickly grabbed a hold of it. He didn’t know enough to unlock your phone, but he could easily download his new software without a fuss. Heeseung pulled out his phone, automatically airdropping the relevant file to yours. The new software wasn’t an ordinary tracking device, but it even synced your live activity. Now onwards, all your texts and calls would go through him. The only drawback? He needed time for the syncing to finalise.

He put your phone down, but his gaze caught the back cover, and he immediately inspected it. You kept a Polaroid inside the cover, a beautiful smile lighting up your features as you stood next to your best friend at what seemed like Disneyland. Heeseung wanted to cherish your smile, but noticing the arm your friend easily draped across your waist, fury seethed beyond his pupils.

Why were people so effortlessly a part of your life? Why did it come so easily to everyone but him? To him, you were so distant like a dream. He had to bide his time, pretend to be patient, and even befriend a narcissist like Jake, just to make you aware of his existence.

Why couldn’t he just have you?

Heeseung turned away, his mood soured, his gaze searching for something to get his mind off the bitterness. The room was… perplexingly simple. Most of your personality was huddled on that desk; the walls were empty with just a cuckoo clock in the centre and a bean bag resting against the wardrobe. Dispiritedly, he allowed himself to gaze at the bed.

A master bed served with your petite frame wrapped like a sushi roll on a platter.

Heeseung’s body grew warm at the sight. You were in dreamland, the sound of slow breathing now clearer to his ears as he crept closer. He stood at the edge of the bed, his gaze running over your frame. To his displeasure, your face was hidden from his prying eyes, strands disorderly shadowing your features, evoking his irritation.

He couldn’t help it. He found himself getting nearer, your scent getting stronger, soft vanilla teasing his nostrils. Placing his knee on the white sheets, he leaned forward and brushed the strands off your face.

Long lashes rested against your tinted cheeks, round parted lips with a hint of drool running past the corner. Heeseung didn’t even notice when he had dropped himself on the sheets’, his torso completely resting beside your sleeping frame. 

Heaven. The sheets were warm and immersed in your scent, giving him the illusion of your embrace. 

His palms itched to touch. His tongue felt heavy with appetite. He had memorised every inch of your beauty to see you behind his eyelids, but his hands still didn’t know your touch.

Heeseung impulsively reached out, his index finger grazing your bottom lip. Instantly, heat spread from his chest down to his centre. His fingers trembled as he traced the rose petals. Your slow breaths coupled with the softness of your lips made his hunger flare up. He trailed the finger down your chin, collecting your drool, and he transferred it to his mouth, impatiently sucking in your taste. 

He couldn’t help the urge to lower himself, stick his tongue out and slide it against your bottom lip.

His toes curled, his eyes falling shut.

Euphoria. 

Suddenly, he felt like a teenager sharing his first kiss. Your saliva was like sugar melting on his tongue, a taste so delectable that his insides curled in starvation. Heeseung wasn’t a fan of desserts, but your flavour humbled him, making him realise what he’d been missing all his life. He preferred the taste of wine and burnt spices, believing his palate was too mature for anything so juvenile. Yet, god—your lips were like the first shot of his high. Suddenly, sweet things became irresistible.

His lower region tingled as his flicks became harsher, his mouth wide open in mindless hunger, his drool messily spilling on your lips. His mind buzzed, body twisting into the sheet in urgency; your taste had rendered him so weak that he was willing to disrupt his entire plan just from the heat of your mouth.

He felt his arousal strain through his trousers as he tried sliding his tongue in the small gleaming gap in your lips when suddenly he felt you stir. He jerked away, breath heaving, lips drenched with spit. Narrow-eyed, he surveyed your features.

Please not yet. Please, baby.

Instead of ruining his plans, you simply tugged the blanket low. He saw your tongue peek out and run over your bottom lip and gulp down his saliva. It was unintentional and child-like, maybe, one of your sleeping habits. But Heeseung’s blood burned at the sight, his mouth drying up, pupils darkening.

His gaze chased lower, and he spotted a silver of skin, peaking through the cover. The blanket was tangled low on your waist, exposing your brunched-up shirt to his hungry eyes. He didn’t even bother fighting his lascivious thoughts, abruptly tugging up your shirt to reveal your stomach. Heeseung crawled down, his lips immediately pressing into the golden skin, trailing restrained kisses up your waistline. His restrain wavered when he was presented with the sight of your tiny belly button. His mouth salivated as he observed the little hole. Instantly his tongue lashed out, dipping into the curve. His body hummed, his vision blurring as his hips involuntarily thrust into the sheets. He wanted to fill—every hole—every crevice that let him invade. If there was a part he couldn’t physically access, he wanted to stab holes and punch his essence in every corner to mark you as his.

Saliva pooled down his jawline, drenching your abdomen as he protruded his needy tongue into your warm button. He flicks become hungrier, needier, his hands scrambling to grope something—anything. With cheeks pressed flat against your damp stomach, he bit down on his lip to silence the groan itching up his throat as he squeezed your waist.

Fuck. You were made to be touched. You were made to be his clay. You were made to mould into his favourite plaything. You were made for him to love.

Inhale.

Heeseung’s gaze darted to your face, his muscles tensing at the sharp inhale.

Fuck—shit—fuck—your eyes were half open.

Survival instincts kicked in, and Heeseung rolled off the bed at lightning speed, slithering beneath it, pressing his lips together to steady his breathing. The bed creaked as you shifted and sat up. He could almost picture it: your heavy-lidded eyes widening in alarm, the image of a flushed Heeseung gazing up at you—poof—gone, like a mystical encounter. You’d wonder if seeing him there was a figment of your imagination. You’d gulp and rub your template, accepting your insanity.

Heeseung envisioned it all—and he was right.

You were going crazy, thinking about Heeseung, your brother’s best friend, doing sickening, revolting, absolutely heavenly things to you. You didn’t recall dreaming of him, but you might be a stage two schizophrenic because you were now hallucinating his presence. Your body was overly indulged in the hallucination, feverish and covered in goosebumps. You kicked off the blanket, noticing your shirt pooled up, your stomach warm, limbs shaking.

Heeseung waited, his heartbeat steadying as you showed no sign of suspicion. Just like he had imagined. Your insecure mind probably convinced you otherwise. Sometimes, even seeing doesn’t translate to believing—especially for someone as pure-hearted as you. You’d rather doubt your own soul than accuse anyone else of foul play. He’d have to teach you to believe in yourself more than this world—he’d force you to grow a thorn in that beautiful heart, so no one could taint it. Except him.

He lay there, flushed—dazed. He laid there for hours until your laborious breaths morphed into sweet lullabies.

As he slid out the bed, he turned towards you, his heart throbbing with adoration.

You were back to being a little sushi roll, covered with a blanket, your hair sticking to your face as you slept like a log. The mere thought of someone else seeing you innocently asleep made his blood boil. He'd gladly crack open their skulls, extract their hippocampi, and flush them down the toilet to erase any trace of you from their minds.

Heeseung stepped closer and gently kissed your head. He inhaled deeply, savouring your scent from your flushed frame. Reluctantly, he stepped back, grabbed his phone and ensured the sync was complete before heading out the door.

He had to speed things up; the wait was becoming unbearable.

Straight away, Heeseung took a cab home. There was a solid hour before his morning lecture, so he immediately threw himself into his bed and analysed the synced files on his phone.

Details from your phone helped him understand you, but he didn’t know everything just yet. He scrolled through your notes. You liked watching dramatic sitcoms about housewives and divorces. Your YouTube was just a diverse cookbook: most watched clips were recipes ranging from brownies to egg soufflé to Arabic hummus. He chuckled as he noticed some dance tutorials. He would love to see you dance one day.

Your social media presence was barely a drop in his research. You had zero posts, and mostly followed celebrities and high school girlfriends. Looking into your teenage years, to Heeseung’s relief, you had been to an all-girls school. He scoured your followers for any guys, but except for some male actors, you didn’t seem to have anyone worth noting.

The syncing only allowed access to a specific set of photos you had downloaded from your PC onto the mobile. There was a total of six pictures— three of those were of the fucking sunset. The rage he felt as he patiently waited for the pictures to download only to be met with an ugly ball of yellow light was unfathomable.

As he scrolled, he found a picture of a younger girl in a white sundress sitting beside a boy who proudly held up a fishing net, occupied with three mackerels, a memory of Jake and your childhood. His heart felt warm as he zoomed into your features. Unknowingly, he was tracing the line of your smile, the shape of your eyes on the screen, a dumb smile playing on his own lips.

He snapped out of it and scrolled ahead. The following picture was a group photo from— high school. You were the centre of attention, your hair up in a ponytail, a vivid smile glossing your features as girls huddled around you. He felt the magnetic pull exuding your frame even from lifeless photos— making him wish he had opted for your area, so he could have found you earlier. He believed whatever time frame he found you, he would have pounced to get you to himself.

Heeseung forcibly clicked off and opened the last photo in the synced album. His smile wiped off, his body sitting alert, his gaze narrowed and fixated on the screen. Your university’s back entrance had a swing where he noticed couples hanging and making out.

In the snapped photo, you were perched on top of the wooden swing, eating an ice lolly with a man behind you, his hands on your shoulders, a shit-eating grin on his face whilst pointing at the camera.

Heeseung’s grip on his phone tightened. From the outskirts, he hadn’t seen that face anywhere near you, but then again, how much could one know as an outsider. 

No.

Jake’s mocking insults about your love life were proof of your singularity.

He hated knowing such little about your world. He hated someone so undeserving and irrelevant could touch you so easily when he had to watch you from the shadows, dwell on small encounters.

He had to find this guy and ensure your protection before he could even think of disclosing his love for you. Whatever this man was, Heeseung had to know more.

[powerpuffobsession]

Am I the only one who feels that Hazbin Hotel's overall vibe is far too naive and upbeat for an adult cartoon about hell and redemption of sinners?

I feel like before writing this cartoon, Vivzie and the other writers should have made a trip to unfortunate areas of the world and watch how the lifestyle there rolls. Because hell is said to be a place of misery, where there is no trust and a lot of hate, both internal and external... Adam is an object of pure unfiltered hartred (both from writers and fandom) because he dares to live in heaven, such a safe and friendly-natured place...

And yet the sinners who happen to be main characters act more like school kids on a field trip (even more carefree than those, lol) - their selfish and sinful motives are so artificial and are brought up only when these characters need to look like a victim, not like criminals who somehow deserved a place in hell

Obviously, it's a manipulative trope to put them in a better light than Heaven and Adam (who is forever silenced by the writers and not allowed to voice any thoughts and reflections other than "hurr durr murder I luuuv murdering and being evil because that's what I was since I was born, even though Lilith and Eve, born literally the same way as me, were innocent victims from the get go, and no logical explanation for that will be provided whatsoever - men bad, women good")

In the light of all that, the sinners are too eager to trust each other and form "da epic powar of friendship" mlp-sonic-style

In a society built on terror, anarchy and survival instincts, no one would ever bother wasting vital power on noticing someone's problems and helping them out. Everyone is focused on their own problems and desires, and that's what drives them to act. Well, the exception may be family members, and even that varies

That's why Husk's intent to comfort Angel after the later attacks him over nothing at the bar, looks really fake, considering the setting. At first I thought that "loser baby" where Husk insults Angel, was some sort of revenge and Husk laughing in the spider's face. But no, it actually turned out to be a comforting song that started their friendship. Husk literally had no motivation to want to help Angel, because he was annoyed by him all the time prior. If there was some kind of basis for their bonding, I would have believed it. But not like this.

And Angel had no reason to actually like that sort of comfort. I get it when your best friend or a family member cheers you up in a harsh way - you know them. And even when coming from people you trust that can hurt. Now imagine a complete stranger doing that to you. That's actually something that shouldn't be done - trying to playfully insult or jester a person you haven't communicated with for a long enough time to gain their trust. And to make this even more strange, Angel at first reacts negatively, but then suddenly snaps to liking that disrespectful way of comforting for no reason at all.

And why did Angel even vent his problems to Husk, a stranger bartender who he'd hurt before. Wasn't he actually afraid of being laughed at and of Husk using his trauma to spread gossip around or something?

Next, Sir Pentious. In the pilot (which is officially part of canon, mind you), he already felt like a joke sunday cartoon villain, but at least he had some edge to him that made him look like a sinner with some dark history. In the series however, he gets nerfed the very moment he steps into the hotel to the point where it's painful to look at

His tendency to abuse his henchmen, his physopathic demeanor, his hartred for Cherri (instead of embarrassing attempts to get blue balled by her), his sincere power hunger - where did all that go? Vanished in a blink of an eye. All that's left of a promising snake demon is a pile of fanservice. So morally unchallenging and harmless that a viewer theoretically simply cannot resist loving him

Well i'm kind disappointed. We don't even know in what way Sir Pentious had to improve, because the plot never focused on his past, his life goals, whatever made him want to lead turf wars and whatever awful things he did in life, what was the point where he started degrading... none of that. He just became a better person after one "sorry song" and acted perfectly innocent ever since and didnt put any effort into getting ready to sacrifice himself for other main characters

The sacrifice... to me it's baffling how fast the sinners, over the course of just 6 months, actually became Charlie's family figures and risked their lives for her hotel. Such pure child-cartoon-styled power of friendship, built in hell, with the aid of a princess who cant even think through her project of helping sinners without bringing them more trouble... realistically, Charlie would have had to fight angels alone (how convenient it is that no main characters died in that chaotic brawl, right?)

And Charlie herself is far too naiive and soft-natured for someone who is free to walk along the streets of hell looking at all the muder, rape and othe horrible stuff that's happening there. Given that she's 200, Charlie had more than enough time to built up her street smarts and guts and learn to be more practical and mindful, instead of staying with the mind of a 12 year old who needs other characters to do everything for her (Lucifer, Vaggie, Alastor) and then get praised for THEIR efforts. That's hell's royalty and our main character?

Aaand since sinners are portrayed as Charlie's "people" (as if they are a nationality), sweet babies who all deserve redemption and are called innocent by Emily (I can't believe how dumb the writers made angels be) - the true essence of exterminatons is never focused on. Adam and his exterminator army are seen in the wrong, like some kind of monsters who terrorize poor souls. However, think about this - child molesters, rapists, torturers, bullies, nazists, actual racists etc died in those exterminations. Doesnt that seem like something a lot of us would want? To have scum like this disappear as revenge for people they have hurt/driven to suicide?

Exterminations are not really an act of racism, bigotry or something like that. They are an excecution of criminals, which a lot of sinners are.

But the black and white writing is trying to conceal that rather prominent highlight of the rotten part of Charlie's plan (not all sinners deserve mercy or redemption). All that was needed was to make exterminators these icky "villains" who luuuv killing and are never willing to listen

All in all, a cartoon that has an ambitious premise that should be driven by psychological reasearch/analysis and dark serious themes... makes me roll my eyes with its cliche use of "power of friendship" and " strictly good main characters, strictly bad villains" tropes. Too bad such beautiful animation was wasted on such juvenile writing that never had any effort put into it

There shouldn't even be any villains or heroes in a setting like this. Allow the lead roles (sinners in hell) do something actually questionable and be unlikable, don't coddle the viewer in fear of making them even the slightest bit uncomfortable. Allow those, who opposes sinmers, have personalities and reasons, not cliche sociopathy for sociopathy's sake to cause forced sympathy for the main characters

Pristine "safe" writing should not have a place in adult cartoons. Or else they will stay a product that'd rather be watched by 7-14 year olds instead of adults (I can't picture a single adult over 22 who would unironically call hazbin hotel a show that tackles realistic issues in an observant way)

[cinnamon-bunni]

💙💛🧡123 Headcanons🧡💛💙

bc I love them so much........they are everything to me your honor dhushadhhsjajdhsjai am so normal about these three

These three have the best dynamic to ever your honor

we have the Tired Mom, the (not) Cool Older Brother, and the Loser Older Brother (that you forget is technically an older brother). what else would you ever want?

like??? Lucifer needs to put the two on a leash whenever they go out shopping. i mean he has to do that for all of his brothers but its upsetting that he needs to do it for these two as they should be the most well-behaved

but Levi is on the verge of summoning lotan because he didnt get a limited time figurine of a sanrio x ruri-chan crossover and mammon is currently trying to start up what appeared to be a pyramid scheme, so no these two were not to be trusted alone

But most days are good days though! Mammon behaves sometimes because Lucifer says if he's good then he can get a special treat; and Levi behaves majority of the time outside, but that's often because Lucifer handed him a tablet before leaving the car and he's been on it and not paying attention for the whole trip, just trailing behind Lucifer

In a similar vein, I think while Lucifer is trying to catch Levi up on the details of an important student council meeting he missed, the second he sees Levi's eyes start to wander he's quick to pull out with a subway surfers video or smth to keep his attention to the matter at hand (he also keeps a small bag with grimm in it to jingle in front of Mammon; it has the same affect)

Lucifer often looks at his brothers and is like "i expect more out of you two," and Mammon is like "¯\_(ツ)_/¯" and Levi responds by insulting Lucifer with so many internet slang words that Lucifer only knows half of at most but he knows he should be offended

You know how most people know a trend/meme is dead when the older generations get their hands on it? yeah that's Lucifer. Mammon cringes so hard whenever any internet term leaves his older brother's mouth. Levi cried once when Lucifer used the word "poggers"

(Lucifer, of course, is very much aware of this, and uses this to his advantage. He does his best to pay attention to the types of terms Levi uses, but they change like everyday and Lucifer is still always somehow a few years behind

Speaking of embarrassing older brothers: Mammon is such a col older brother and brags and boasts about this fact all the time and Levi is soooooo embarrassed by him its unreal. Like how the hell is this scumbag, who isn't even a tenth as cool as Lucifer is, his older brother. how did this happen

Obviously the label of "older brother" is used less the younger they get--Lucifer is The big brother; Mammon is an older brother but often isn't viewed as one (despite desperately wanting to be seen as one bc he loves his brothers soooo much he wants to protect them so badly I could go on for forever about it tbh); and Levi is more of "oh right i'm older" sort of older brother. he's like a babysitter than anything else

These three definitely get together in Lucifer's study to get drunk and talk tho you know they do. They all have to deal with so much shit from the younger four (most don't respect them as older brothers, don't listen to them, don't heed warnings about cursed objects (that necklace is cursed Asmo don't put it on stop putting it on-)), and so the three just get together and complain <33

They also coo a lot abt their younger brothers! Either when they get together and drink, or in their group chat. i mean, this is a bit canon already as the three talk about their brothers in their groupchat, but thinking about how they talk abt their brothers behind their backs (in a positive way) is sooo cute <3

also thinking abt how the three work very well together when needed! need to work on a larger chore together (grocery run, errands that need to get done either for their own reasons, for Diavolo, or for RAD)? usually lucifer and levi get the most work done when paired together! lucifer is often good at making sure levi stays on task, and is able to deal with his possible whining without making it worse

if mammon and levi usually leave with an 80% of either getting off track, or not getting anything done to begin with. on a good day they'll take an hour longer than needed

lucifer and mammon can get a lot of work done as well together! lucifer just has to keep a tight leash on mammon <3 but mammon, despite how much he gets on lucifer's nerves, steps up a lot when it's just him and lucifer

like, lucifer can trust mammon with just about anything...like yeah, hes annoying to all hell and back, but he's loyal and trustworthy. he's his brother, who lucifer can trust to keep him in check and go along with his plans when things go awry. they trust each other so much even when everything has gone to shit <33

and you know that even tho levi is big brother himself, lucifer and mammon still tease him bc he's still a little brother in their eyes <3 and the both are always just so incredibly proud of him when he learns and grows and gets out of his shell after they all fell

lucifer cares so much for all of them, and hes so proud of mammon and levi of what they've become. theyre responsible and caring and so full of love for the rest of their brothers and the people in their lives?? like. even after everything he's put them through, the pain he cause, the two still held up their heads and helped their younger brothers when they needed it. lucifer couldnt ask for better brothers

and levi and mammon?? following lucifer to the ends of the earth. hes done so much for this family and yeah, hes such a pain in the ass sometimes that it gets on their nerves, but they know how much he cares. how his heart bleeds for his family. he would do just about everything for this family, and mammon and levi would be right behind him with it

the three clash and get on each others' nerves often but like. those three? their bond is stronger than anything in the Three Realms. they all have each other's backs and would all just do everything in their power to protect their family and have them all safe <3 and really thats all the three of them could ask for

[sidesteppostinghours]

VOTE BLAZE FOR FHR TUMBLR SEXYMAN

now why on earth would i, a humble man, ask the people to vote for blaze over ricardo? what basis could i possibly have to convince you to consider him over (arguably) los diablos most eligible bachelor?? friends, i come to you with two simple arguments:

1. blaze shows a surprising amount of depth when you dive under the flashy exterior

2. i cannot stress enough how funny it would be to watch ortega lose in the first round

blaze is undeniably a suave, arrogant asshole who desperately needs somebody to kick his ass. hes a little prick to the puppet (if theyre male, if theyre female he switches his tune Damn Quick) and he somehow managed to fumble chen??? which is frankly embarrassing for him.

However. however. hes shown in both very small interactions when you meet him and during the actual fight to be a competent, strategic hero who cares about the people. as step points out, when the puppet stumbles over him his immediate reaction is to treat them like somebody who needed help. during the fight, he first takes the time to strategize, making sure to dial back his powers to make sure nobody gets hurt– to the point that he hinders himself. even chen says that blaze always had careful control, to the point where if you fry him in the meeting room, chen suspects somethings up.

hes also surprisingly reasonable about step, giving serious thought to what they say and do regardless of how cruel of a villain they are. yeah ok ortega has the 'sympathetic' villain relationship status but does that really do anything about his perceptions of them??? he still readily calls them a monster during the villain reveal. meanwhile it takes one(1) conversation with blaze to get him questioning his bosses, and it literally does not matter how many people youve killed, he ends up pestering alvarez about it anyway. i firmly believe that hes put a lot more thought about the problems in the system he works under, even if he puts more faith in it than he should.

anyway thats enough serious propaganda, heres the sillier ones: hes such a loser. like 24/7 nonstop. this man is utterly pathetic. i know i talked about how good he is as a hero but listen to me. he gets all dismissive about a step that has less than 55 infamy, but i have 9 steps (though i only talk about 4). i have lost to him by accident Once. i have to codedive so i can lose to him On Purpose for the achievement it is so bad. it is so funny watching all the ways he can eat shit during that fight. truly the pinnacle of bisexual failboy.

I ALMOST FORGOT THAT HE ACCIDENTALLY KINDA OUTS HIS CONNECTION WITH CHEN BECAUSE HE WAS BEING SALTY??? LIKE

POV YOU KEEP YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH THE MARSHAL OF LOS DIABLOS SECRET FOR MONTHS ONLY TO POTENTIALLY EXPOSE IT TO A RANDO BCAUSE YOU WERE MAD ABOUT BEING EXES.

it has also come to my attention via @allens-chocolate-dreams that rat king can become his fan if step falls out the window again and this is extremely important to me.

can rat king be a fan of ortega??? no, because ortega is a loser whos immune to telepathy. very clear whos superior here imo. oh and im probably legally required to say that he has fire powers which makes him objectively hotter than ortega.

finally and most importantly,

if blaze wins i will draw ric dying in a glue trap.

[mecachrome]

Hi k! I think you’ve maybe mentioned this before but if you want would you share any thoughts on the Jenson/Oscar/Lando dynamic (either observed or in your fic!)? Love your scholarship as always.

omg i would love to but disclaimer that this is like an entirely fictional dynamic of course and basically just something i want to see in badvibez fic HLSDFHLKH. actually as a jendo 1oa shipper my Very very early idea was one-sided attraction on lando's side + 814 fwbs but eventually i fell down the jb81 brainworms path...

oh but in terms of observed dynamics, one thing i remember very clearly from 2022 is when crbgate was happening and jenson was talking to skysports about it like "i've been through this situation before but actually i was wrong and selfish 😊 oscar shouldn't make enemies in his career so early when he's literally never driven in a formula 1 car ❤️" in that lowkey condescending (affectionate) way of his which was hilarious to me fsr because like. well to be clear Many pundits/tps/etc. were speaking presumptuously on oscar's situation and often it was through this lens of "surely one team can't be that fucking stupid and incompetent right?" (spoiler alert: well you know) but Still... because mark webber (we'll get to him) was actually managing oscar correctly and oscar WASN'T as stupid and brash as young jense. similarly people love comparing oscar's driving style to jenson's and i remember once during an fp session someone doing it right before oscar went off and jenson was like ...Okay then. :) HLSDFH like i do think jenson rates and likes oscar don't get me wrong i just also think that 1) jenson is obnoxiously obsessed with and loyal to lando and 2) jenson can get carried away with the Narratives like any other pundit but... he's also pretty clearheaded and objective with where oscar's current level is and doesn't ever praise him senselessly, which interests me because of how much old people adore oscar and hype him up. also the first f1 race oscar ever watched was melb 2009 which jenson won... guy who meticulously studied canada 2009 as race prep two weeks ago 🧡

basically the idea of the fic really is that Literally Everyone Ever is obsessed with jenson button except for oscar. and Literally Everyone Ever around jenson's age is charmed by oscar except for jenson. and oscar's like ok yeah he's cool but what is so great about this guy... has logan texting him going all mate seriously he's actually so nice 🥰 and lando turns beet red every time jenson so much as breathes near him in the paddock and he and alex get along swimmingly and everyone he talks to seems to think jenson is the funniest guy alive. he's like ??? PULL YOURSELVES TOGETHER.

also what i love about jenson is that he's so good at playing mindgames by never succumbing to them in the first place. which is a distinctly oscar piastri quality... so like i love the idea of their banter/dynamic being very insincere but in this distinctly light-hearted and polite way??? like they're both clearly trying to fuck with each other but they're having fun with it. ok actually sorry let me just paste an entire text post. Basically c'est comme ça:

also this is something chel and i discussed once but the hilarity of jenson and mark is that jenson treats the young brits like they're his mates but actually maintains some sort of moral emotional/physical distance whereas markw is out here like calling oscar his kid and pup while being... i mean. You know. hasklfdh anyway i LOVE their dynamic in the context of jendo/jb81/814 etc. because while jenson and mark are friends mark will always be that loser who never got his wdc and lost to seb every time... which really the latter is the most embarrassing to him imo because jenson lowkey rates beating lewis higher than winning his championship.

tl;dr: when you're in a Make Everything about lando norris competition and your opponents are jenson and oscar

tbh i kind of gave up on this a while back but then miami brought everything back because JENSON was there and then i was just like >>>THE DELICIOUSNESS OF JENSON BEING THERE FOR LANDO'S WIN AND OSCAR FLOPPING... there is nothing more delicious to me than sleeping together about another person imo. and it first happens in silvo or something because they have all these misdirected feelings about lando who is Inaccessible to them for different reasons (jenson: thinks he's being an upstanding citizen by only lusting after lando from afar / oscar: has been told by mark webber to not hook up with a teammate. never said anything about old rivals though) and then it keeps continuing because oscar's season kind of goes to shit once they hit the americas and well... you get the gist.

i could talk about this forever tbh. even though it makes NO sense <3 can someone please write me jb81 😭😭😭

[heyheydidjaknow]

Sometimes I write stuff because people ask me to. Sometimes I write stuff because I have an overwhelming desire to pick a character apart to figure out how they work. This is not one of those times. This time, this fic goes out to middle school me, who wanted to read SAO:A Kirito x Reader fanfiction and had to settle for normal Kirito x Reader fanfiction. Nobody is going to read this and that is fine because this is between me and little me. It’s not very good but at least now it exists. You’re welcome, little me.

Pig’s Blood

Kazuto Kirigaya was objectively the biggest loser you had ever met. Naturally, you were incredibly infatuated with him.

You did not know much about Kazuto. The only reason you sat next to him in the first place was that you were new to the area and the seats next to him were consistently empty. Your conversations were limited— he was exceptionally socially awkward— and the conversations you did have lasted maybe a minute each. You knew he was into coding through someone who tried to convince you not to ask him out, that he had a sister determined to make you not like him, and that he sat alone under the stairs at lunch. But the interactions you did have— as infrequent as they were— made your day; he was charming and had not hurt anyone you knew directly, so as far as you were concerned he was fair game and a fairly decent option despite the fact that your friends all thought he was as charming as a doormat.

You came into class that day confidently, groomed to the best of your abilities, and dressed as well as the school dress code would allow. You sat next to him as always, tapped him on the shoulder, and asked a very simple question: “You’re not in a relationship, right?”

Kazuto, who had been scrolling through his phone up until that point with earbuds placed securely in his ears, turned to look at you, obviously distracted as he pulled one of them out. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Are you single?”

He blinked. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because I would like to ask you out on a date.”

He stared at you, lips twitching into a smile. “Yeah,” he laughed incredulously, “okay.” He went back to his phone. “And why, pray tell, would you want to do that?”

“Because I like you.” You shrugged, feeling slightly deflated but not completely discouraged. “I think you’re funny and cute and smart. I would like to get to know you better and see if a relationship between us might work.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure you do.” He rested his head on his hand. “Our school doesn’t have a prom; do you plan on dumping pig's blood on me before or after the date?”

“Excuse me?”

“This is a trap.” Either he was an exceptionally fast reader or he was not actually reading what was on his phone. “I saw you were talking to my sister; she probably set you up to humiliate me.”

You stared at him.

“I can pay attention.”

“You’re a clown.”

He paused. “That’s a weird way of saying, ‘I’m sorry for trying to—‘“

“Here I was,” you cut him off, “worried that you would just up and reject me and that I would be stuck sitting next to you if you did. Never in my wildest nightmares did I think that your reaction would be, ‘Say sike.’” You rubbed your eyes, already thoroughly exhausted by this conversation. “Kazuto, if you’re not interested, please just say instead of making yourself look like a moron, alright? You’re embarrassing both of us.”

“You were serious?”

“Yes!”

“Oh.” His eyes were unfocused as he processed this information. “Oh. You’re into me?”

You let your head fall to your desk. “Yes.”

His ears visibly warmed. “Still?”

“Am I still engaging?”

“Great.” He nodded slowly. “Can I take you up on your offer, then?”

“That depends; do you genuinely think I’m going to spill pig’s blood on you?”

“If you knew my sister you’d understand.”

“Sure.” Without looking, you made a grabbing motion for his phone. “Gimme. I’ll put my number in your phone.”

“You what?”

“I have a date.” He gave himself another once over. “So I’m not going to be back until later.”

Sugaha leaned against the opposite wall, looking with him. “Playing dating sims in an internet cafe isn’t a date, you know.”

Kazuto took a slow, deep breath. “How about you shut the fuck up?” He looked back at her, smiling brightly. “Your words do not affect me. You will not bring me down.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to bring you down.” She raised her arms in mock defense. “I mean, you are dressed in your finest, least cum-stained t-shirt, so obviously this is a big deal. I’m just reminding you that we in the real world just call that being sad in public and that calling it a date just makes it that much sadder.”

His ears burned. “It was one time.”

She grinned. “One time too many.”

He huffed, turning back to the mirror. “I’m going on a date with a real person.”

“Yeah?” She snorted. “Do they think you’re a twelve-year-old girl again?”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s not a no.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “They go to our school.”

She crossed her arms. “How much did you pay them?”

He licked his teeth. “If you’re so cool, where's your date?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need one. You know why? Because people would notice my death even if I did die single.”

“And you know what they’d say at the funeral? ‘Here lies Sugaha Kirigaya, a bitch so far up her own ass that she couldn’t let her brother be happy for five fucking minutes.’ Is that what you want?”

She gave him a long look in the mirror. “‘Here lies noncommittal flake bitchboy Kazuto Kirigaya, whose only accomplishment was holding the world record for fewest bitches.’”

There was a knock on the door.

“It appears our time here is up.” He clapped his hands together, already exhausted. “So long, fair well, and please for the love of god do not wait up for me.”

She rolled her eyes, waving her hand dismissively as she disappeared down the hall. “Bold of you to assume I’ll have to.”

He opened his mouth to offer a clever retort, but the words died in his throat. With a huff, he opened the door.

You were decidedly out of his league. He could tell as much from the offset; not only did you have levels of confidence he could only hope to achieve, but you were also decidedly better looking than he was, as proven by the fact that you were still a ten outside of a school uniform. You were dressed appropriately for the weather in colors and a style that seemed to suit you, and unlike Kazuto you did not seem to be sweating buckets, which was not a fashion choice but still a notable positive quality. He, on the other hand, for all his agonizing, still looked like a drowned rat, hair both miraculously sticking to his scalp and sticking out at odd angles and rocking eye bags like a statement piece of jewelry he did not want to be wearing. Not even a minute after opening the door he already wanted to escape back to his room.

“Kazuto?”

He blinked. “Did you say something?”

“I asked if you were ready to go.” You glanced down at your hands. “You looked as though I put a gun to your head.”

“Did I?” He shook his head, trying to pull himself back together. “I’m not. I mean, I am. I mean, yes, I am ready to go.” With each passing word the number of syllables he stumbled over increased. He slowed down, figuring clunky wording sounded more natural than seeming to have a stroke. “Where is the place that we are going to be going to today?”

From the look on your face, he could tell you had noticed his odd behavior. He hoped for the earth to swallow him whole. “I know a cafe not that far from here.” You pointed in the general direction. “I thought it would be nice to walk.”

He gave you a thumbs up lamely. “Awesome. Neat. Cool. Great. Let’s go.”

You stepped aside for him as he tried not to stumble over the threshold. “Let’s.” You looked up at the house. “You’ve got a nice place.”

“Thanks.” He closed the door before immediately sticking his hands in his pockets. As you began to walk he followed at your side. “Was the trip far?”

“Not at all.” You held your hands behind your back. “Maybe twenty minutes or so total.”

“Good.” He looked down at his feet. “Good.”

The two of you walked in silence for a solid minute. In that time be considered three separate times if he could realistically make his jumping in front of a moving vehicle look like an accident.

“Nice weather we’re having.”

He nodded.

You pulled out your phone, unlocking it. “Do you go to cafes much?”

He hesitated. “I guess, yeah.”

“What do you usually get?”

“Coffee.”

“How do you take it?”

“Black.”

You nodded. “So you’re a masochist.”

He choked on his spit. “What?”

You repeated yourself.

His ears warmed. “Why does that make me a masochist?”

“It doesn’t.” You smiled to yourself. “But you’re not totally freaked out anymore.”

“I was not freaked out!” He stood up taller. “I was letting you lead the conversation!”

Your grin only widened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! And you know what?”

You held your hands behind your back, waiting politely for him to finish his thought.

He looked down at his feet. “Whatever.”

“You are so red right now.”

He was half convinced he was going to combust. “Fuck you.”

You pushed him playfully with your side. “In public? How scandalous.” You looked up at one of the buildings, taking his hand. “This is it.” You pulled him inside.

It registered in the back of his head that the cafe was nice. He had been here before, had looked up at the menu you were looking at, and had, at a point in time, been able to process the information written on the chalkboard. However, the fact that you, an attractive person, were holding his sweaty hand made such a complicated as being able to use his eyes seem nigh impossible, and rightly so; after all, everyone knows that holding someone’s hand, something that people do every day, makes you illiterate and deaf.

You snapped your fingers in front of his face. You were saying something to him.

“Huh?”

You raised your voice. “What do you want?”

He glanced up at the menu uselessly. “Tea.”

The cashier– who Kazuto had either failed to perceive or had spawned into existence just then– smiled sympathetically at him. “What sort?”

Kazuto wondered if the condensation leaking from his pores would drip onto the floor. “Hot.”

The cashier nodded as if that made any sense, punching his order into the computer in front of him. “Do you want anything in your tea?”

“Yes.”

The cashier glanced at you as if looking for some sort of explanation. “What would you like in your tea?”

“Sugar.”

“Is that all?”

“Yup.” He hoped that by some great failure on the barista’s part– who he could see watching the scene– it was a slow day– with barely contained mirth– might accidentally slip some sort of toxic substance in his drink on accident so that they might both be rendered incapable of experiencing the trainwreck that was this date any longer.

You paid for both of you. You let go of his hand to pay, an obvious sign that you now hated him. He tried asking you how much he owed you but remembered that talking had not worked very well for him thus far and decided to keep his mouth shut and instead focus on remembering how a member of the human race operates a chair.

You took your seat easily, waiting patiently for him to figure his chair out. “So you like tea.”

He eventually managed. “Huh? Yeah.”

You laced your fingers together, propping your elbows on the table and resting your head on your hands. “I thought you said you were a coffee drinker.”

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded. “I lied.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, not fully processing his own words. “I thought it made me sound cooler.”

You smiled gently. “And why would that make you cooler?”

He shrugged again, prompting an overwhelming desire in him to cut off his arms so he did not have the option.

“Alright then.” You shifted your head to one of your hands, looking down at your nails. “What do you actually drink, then?”`

“At a place like this? Tea.”

You smiled. “Is that your caffeinated beverage of choice?”

He shook his head.

“What’s your caffeinated beverage of choice?”

He looked down at his hands. “Energy drinks.”

You nodded. “That sounds more like it.”

He glanced up at you. “Why,” he grumbled, “‘cause I seem like the type of loser to do that sort of thing?”

“No.” You sat up. “But you come into first period sometimes with those big cans, and when I see you in third the can is usually gone.”

“That makes sense.”

“Hopefully.”

He looked around the building, avoiding looking at you. “So. No pig blood.”

“No pig blood.” You shrugged. “Figured that wouldn’t be nice to the people who work here; they don’t get paid enough as is.”

His eyes shot up to yours. He offered a weak smile. “Yeah. Totally.” He laughed. “You’re joking. That’s a joke.”

“Who’re you trying to convince?”

“Me, mostly.”

You sigh. “I’m a bit offended you still think I’m going to humiliate you here, for the record.”

He leaned further back in his chair. “You’d get it if you knew me for longer; Sugaha hasn’t ever gone quite this far but it’s not exactly out of character for her.”

You nodded. “I get the impression you and your sister don’t get on well.”

“Isn’t this a weird conversation to be having on a first date?”

You laced your fingers together. “Honestly? No idea. I don’t date much.”

“You don’t?”

You pursed your lips, eyes trained on another couple at the register. “You sound surprised.”

“Well, yeah.” He tugged at one of his sleeves. “You seem like the type to get asked out a lot.”

“Please,” you wave him off. “It’s not as if people are lined up around the block to get a piece of me or anything.”

“They aren’t?”

“Hell no.” You rolled your eyes, clearing your throat. “I was sure you’d turn me down, actually.”

He laughed. “Oh, yeah, like I’m in a position to be turning people down left and right. You have met me, right?”

You did not seem to find the notion as funny as he did. “Yeah.”

He felt his face warm. “Oh.”

The drinks eventually came. You took a sip of yours, crisscrossing your legs on your side of the table. Kazuto sipped his and burned off the nerves in his tongue.

“So.” You swirled your drink, watching the patterns on the surface. “What should we talk about?”

He tried to hide his pain. “Dunno.” He pretended to take another sip. “Did you get the history essay done?”

“Oh, god no.” You smiled. “I’m ignoring that thing until I absolutely have to.”

“Oh.”

You sighed. “I suppose that means yours is finished?”

He nodded.

“For how long?”

“Like a week.”

You took another drink from your cup. “Figures.”

He gave up, setting the mug down. “It’s not like I’m history’s biggest fan,” he mumbled. “I just wanted it done.”

“What for?”

He pursed his lips, thinking of a way to phrase his answer to make himself look less like a loser. “There’s a thing happening next Friday. I want to have my schedule free for it.”

“Yeah?” You smiled. “What?”

“Oh, nothing important.” He scratched at his wrist absentmindedly. “Just a thing.”

You ran your thumb over the lip of your cup. “I’m surprised.”

He blinked. “What’s surprising about that?”

“Well, they’ve been advertising that game you’re always reading about all over recently. Isn’t that dropping Friday?”

Kazuto slowly sank further into his chair. “Is it? I had no idea.”

“Yeah.” You smiled. “My friends and I are camping out to buy it as soon as stores open; I’ve heard it’s supposed to be totally immersive.”

“Sure,” he laughed. “If you qualify having more bugs than an ant farm as being immersive.”

“Huh?”

“The whole game is fucked.” He crossed his arms.” SAO, I mean; the game balancing is a joke, the menus work like they were designed by a toddler raised on Apple products, the class system is unbalanced and nonexistent– launch day is going to be a shitshow from start to finish.”

You blinked. “How do you know that?”

He paused, realizing his mistake. “Is there an answer that isn’t going to make me sound exceptionally lame?”

“Based on your criteria, probably not.”

“Cool.” He sighed. “I was a beta tester. I filled out a survey and got the NerveGear for free.”

You nodded. “That’s lucky.”

He stared at you. “You’re not mocking me. Why aren’t you mocking me?”

“Because I don’t have any reason to.” You smiled. “I knew what I was getting into generally. If I didn’t like you I wouldn’t have asked you out.”

“Right.” He looked down at his cup of now cold tea. “Right.”

You fished your phone from your pocket, glancing down at the screen. You glanced between the device and Kazuto. “Would it be too awful of me to ask if we can continue this some other time? My parents don’t know I’m here and are coming home earlier than I thought.”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, no, we can pick this up some other time.” He stood up as you quickly gathered your things. “Do you need me to walk you to a bus or anything?”

“I’m good, thanks.” You rubbed the back of your neck. “We live in opposite directions.”

“That makes sense.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Then I’ll see you at school?”

You looked at the door, then back at him. “Are you free Friday night? I know SAO is dropping and all, but would you perhaps be interested in grabbing dinner once it shuts down for the inevitable maintenance that it’s going to need?”

He blinked. “You were serious about the meeting up again thing?”

You nodded.

He looked down at his shoes. “Totally, yeah. When’s a good time?”

You considered it. “How’s five sound?”

“Five is perfect.”

“Then it’s a date.” You gave him a quick peck on the cheek, heading to the door. “I gotta run. See ya then!” And just like that, you were out the door.

He stood in the same spot for longer than he should have. He finished his drink– which was as cold as he thought it would be– and left the building.

Kazuto was home early that day. His sister gave him a great deal of shit about it. He got the snot beaten out of him and his eyes nearly fell out of their sockets from staring at his screen for too long. None of that mattered, though, because he had been kissed by the most attractive person in his school. Even if everything else sucked, he could be happy knowing someone like you liked him.

Life was good.

It would not stay that way.

[ashfae]

Sorry if this is a silly question. But I thought you're the person I should ask this to. I feel like, past the teenage and college ages, I don't ever see pictures or videos or stories about friend groups or couples doing the kind of unabashedly cute, dumb stuff together like you see with teenagers and stuff. Stuff like cuddling and holding hands +other physical contact (for friends) or all descending on a convenience store together or playing silly jokes on each other or doing something stupid with household objects because you want to see how it goes/why not. Do people stop doing that because of social norms or thinking it's embarrassing or weird? Or do they still do that?

(basically am I doomed to never have some experiences because I never dated and was a loser in high school)

Ohh anon, I am a good person to ask this to and have such a positive answer. Yes, people still do that. Not all of them but yes it's out there. Yes. Have some stories/favourite memories of mine: New Year's Eve. We were all twentysomethingish and doing a small silly party at a friend's house. Friend's roommate was off with his girlfriend (both also very good friends of ours). We decided to prank him. So when midnight hit that NYE we were at the grocery store (ahh, America, where nothing ever closes ever) buying a ton of post-it notes and sparkly markers and things. We wrote really random silly messages on them and hid them EVERYWHERE in his room. Evrywhere. Under the mattress. Inside his CD cases. Inside shirt pockets. Inside his CD-ROM drive. Geek quotes, compliments, random philisophical questions, whatever. He was still finding them a year later. (side note: on one note I thought I'd put a random Bible verse. Didn't look it up, just went "Uhhh, Revelations because it's weird, 4:6 because they're random numbers, why not." It ended up on the curtains facing the window. Person looked it up and the verse said "And before them stretched a great sea of glass." I don't think my subconscious knew that) Anyway. Emigrated to Scotland at 24 to go to grad school, leaving all my friends behind. Yeowtch. Made new friends. @amuseoffyre and @arianaderalte, with whom I stayed up all night watching anime and talking about completley ridiculous things. Ariana and I pranked each other by sneaking small chocolate bars in each others' backpacks now and then. Fyre would percolate ideas and history at us until we fell off our chairs laughing (Twenty years later on she still does this and I still love it). Ariana had a small Totoro named Sauron-chan, and once when he was left at my house I took him on An Adventure with tons of photos of his hijinks before returning him to her. Oh, and more. @mywingsareonwheels held a readthrough, inviting a bunch of their friends from around the country to come and sit in a circle in a room and read King Lear. I was Cordelia. (I eventually married the person who was cast as the Duke of Albany, incidently.) I remember our Fool singing some of his lines overdramatically to the tune of Once In Royal David's City. There were other things with that group as years went on, and then group holidays, renting a mansion in the Highlands for a week and doing plays, cooking a feast for each other, lying around with half of us drunk and the other half teetotal talking about whatever, playing board games, arguing about cheese. There was a swimming pool and one night I brought a bunch of balloons with LED lights in them and we swam in the dark by their light. Readthrough weekends where we did all the Shakespeare history plays in one long weekend, or all the Jane Austen audio plays. There's been schisms in the group but my god there's been fun too. Even during lockdown, @mywingsareonwheels organized readthroughs that we did over zoom, and every weekend we watch something.

Regarding my partner formerly the Duke of Albany....I hadn't ever dated much, to be honest. I was romantic and fell in smit every ten minutes but didn't want to do anything with sex unless it was with someone who actually had a romantic interest in me and vice-versa, which no one ever did, so...just didn't do much with any of it, to be honest. So I didn't have much experience. When we started dating I was 24. We had our first kiss in a frikking train station. (sorry, train people, but it was chaste). We held hands all over the city. We laughed. We kept turning to each other and saying "This is fun. Why did no one ever tell me this could be fun? I thought it was supposed to be all serious and intense and difficult, but this is easy!" And it was and it stayed fun. We got to do all the silly smitten things I'd never gotten to do as a teen/college student and assumed I just wouldn't experience ever. I realized I loved them and it was going to work when we were in a pub where it was too loud to talk and he invented finger breakdancing, which I don't think I can describe. We got married a year later which is how I ended up living here permanently. We're still silly at each other. It's still fun. I'm in my mid-40s now. I still have friends where I can headbutt their arm in frustration and they'll pet my hair, where I can make ridiculous faces at them, who don't mind that at the drop of a hat I will burst into song. Who will sing "Oh Hamster Tree" by Clive Barker with me in four-part harmony. Yes, yes to all of it, you can find people who will do that. And honestly, fandom's not a bad place to look for them. It's full of outsiders, and outsiders already know that they're not going to fit The Mold, and sometimes we just accept that and sometimes we embrace it and sometimes we celebrate it. Long story short: yes. Look for the people you can be silly with, and who will make it safe for you to be silly with them. They're out there and my god they're the best friends you will ever have.

As for the people who are too embarassed or wedded to social norms? For the former, encourage them to feel safe if you and they can. For the latter, leave them to it. The game they're trying to win is exhausting and impossible and you're better off out of it. Look for the ones who are kind and laugh a lot. Who encourage benevolent conspiracy rather than things that are 'funny' at someone else's expense. Who protect each others' weak points and respect your boundaries. It's not too late. Yes.

[thesinglesjukebox]

PORTER ROBINSON - "CHEERLEADER"

April Fool's Day is over, now time for some SINCERITY...

[5.92]

Taylor Alatorre: This song sounds embarrassing. It sounds excessive. It sounds like something you might regret putting into the world five seconds after hitting "publish." It sounds, in other words, like high school. Porter Robinson's post-brostep career has been an extended treatise on escapism -- from the appealingly plaintive paracosms of 2014's Worlds to the soothing self-inventory of 2021's Nurture, with his Virtual Self side project managing to be both esoteric and stupidly self-explanatory. He's crafted a series of immersive alternatives to analog messiness, allowing the listener to check out of the everyday and place themselves for a moment in a softer-edged realm, with more explicable rules and a more poetic set of problems. "Cheerleader," though, offers the listener no assistance in either sidestepping or reconfiguring the uncomfortable reality into which they were born; music video aside, it's not really a song about fanbases gone wild either. Instead it's about the girl in your school's Anime Club who gave out her deviantART username before her phone number and taught you against your will what the word yaoi meant. The fujoshi representation, besides filling a glaring gap in the TSJ search index, makes it clear that this is about a real person and not an avatar, and it's that awkward flesh-and-blood realness which is precisely at issue here. Maybe she's as real as him, and maybe he couldn't live with that. The perspective of a boy who is unused to being the object of obsession is an under-explored one in music, probably because it's very hard to land it within the narrow range of acceptable loserdom. But Porter sticks the landing by enveloping us fully within the loser's headspace, where both his emo-inflected chagrin and his fragmented memories of the girl's "cheering" are enshrouded by a waterfall of blown-out Obama-era detritus. If you ever wondered what a big room house remix of Two Door Cinema Club might've sounded like, or Oracular Spectacular if it had debuted on Beatport, here's your answer. Other seemingly out-of-place additions -- the bitpop cowbell, the Punk Goes Acoustic bridge, the hilariously overwrought drumroll that becomes less so the second time around -- fit right into this 1080p capture of late adolescent bag-fumbling. Taken together, they convey a mismatch in interests and hobbies that may have seemed like a deal breaker at the time, but in hindsight was just another excuse to avoid vulnerability. Perhaps I only arrived at this gonzo interpretation because the 4chan-core single artwork serves as a kind of shibboleth for these things. If that's the case, then I plead guilty: I ate the apple. [10]

Oliver Maier: "We have Anamanaguchi at home." [6]

Hannah Jocelyn: I loved Porter Robinson's Nurture for its unapologetic sincerity, a balm when emerging back into the world post-lockdown. I miss that early hopefulness as the years have gone on; even now, it's hard for me to hear "Unfold" without being close to tears. "Cheerleader" is a frustrating detour, with inane lyrics about yandere fujoshis fetishizing Robinson -- you know you're doing nothing new when the Nostalgia Critic beat you to it, and Robinson hardly sells the can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em message better. Nurture, for better or worse, incorporated the pitch-shifting vocals of hyperpop into EDM (to the point where a trans woman musician I know grew frustrated with Nurture's acclaim for doing what acts like Katie Dey had done for years, regardless of how Robinson himself identifies.) That's worth acknowledging, especially as this attempts to go right to the source: 3OH!3 and Metro Station come to mind. Except there’s none of the polish that makes those songs work despite themselves -- What's with that tinny hi-hat? Where's the low end on the guitar? Listen to "Shake It"; that song from 2007 sounds better than this one from 2024. It's not enough to replicate the aesthetics; for some ungodly reason, Robinson decided it must sound like it's coming from a Hot Topic speaker too. [4]

Claire Biddles: We have "Shake It" by Metro Station at home. [4]

Tim de Reuse: I admire the chutzpah to take a stylistic hairpin turn like this. And I appreciate the ability to do that while retaining the crystal-clear boom-bap production chops that made you a breakout sensation in the first place. And I appreciate how it makes its power-pop references clear without sticking to them too desperately. And I appreciate the sheer craft; birds fly, rocks sink, Porter Robinson writes synth hooks that wrap around your mind and squeeze tight. And I appreciate the line about getting drawn kissing other guys. But there's a clean and edgeless quality here, a sterile expression of his EDM roots, that directly contradicts his attempts at a heartbreaking singalong. Nowhere does his voice crack with raw emotion; nowhere does it seem even possible that his voice might crack with raw emotion. [5]

Kayla Beardslee: Porter Robinson’s doing anime OSTs now? Good for him. [7]

Leah Isobel: I see this fitting into a whole universe of PS1/Nintendo DS aesthetic indie games, YouTube video essays about old anime, trans girls with Neocities websites, indie pop sung by vocaloids. I could call it hyperpop -- not in the sense of overdriven chaos, but in the sense of the hyperlink. (HTML revival would be more accurate.) As such, it feels a little too precise, its scruffiness deployed too purposefully; I feel like this stuff works best when the self is obscured, and Porter is too big of a star to let that happen. But that also means the chorus is fucking massive, so I can't complain too much. [7]

Nortey Dowuona: The soft, limply placed drums in the song for once are not the sabotaging element in this song. The lithe, acoustic guitar bridge is even nicely played. The guitar riff, doubled by the synth, is the true arrow to the heart of this song. Porter is processed to hell and back, refusing to give over his composition to a more present, entertaining vocalist, but that riff is so grating and stiff that when it first arrives, sliding up as the culmination of the slowly hopping pre-chorus, it stops the song from progressing any further, simply pushing Porter into the background and leaving his Melodyned voice slack below it, struggling to be heard. Now, does this stop me from screaming that chorus in my head? Of course not. It's not fair I have to keep hearing this grating riff every time, though. [6]

Ian Mathers: God, I love that recurring, overdriven synth sound that kicks in on the chorus. If anything I wish it was more all-enveloping when it hits (yes, like shoegaze, yes, I'm predicable). There's lots of other interesting things going on here, but I can't quite get over that visceral rush enough to figure out my response to it all. Hit the whoosh button again, Porter! [8]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Not nearly dumb enough for me to enjoy its shtick. [3]

Isabel Cole: This sounds like a One Direction album track in a universe where after they got kicked off The X Factor, Simon Cowell realized he could save so much money by replacing everyone but Liam with robots, only when they got into the studio there was some kind of malfunction and Zayn-bot started screeching uncontrollably and Niall-bot fell on his side crackling horribly with static while Harry-bot and Louis-bot took turns punching each other until they were dented beyond recognition, and that's why it sounds like how it sounds. (Liam didn't notice anything amiss, obviously; have you met him?) [4]

Will Adams: At the heart of Nurture was its... well, heart. On that record, Porter Robinson wore his on his sleeve, crooning lines like "I'll be alive next year / I can make something good" without a hint of irony. On "Cheerleader," he surprisingly lets a bit of cynicism slip in. It's not a leap to see how producing such earnest, sincere art would naturally invite fans to form parasocial relationships, to draw fan art but not know where to "draw the line," to develop a near-fatalistic expectation of commitment. But between each of those details is a generous counterpoint, where Porter wonders if he benefits just as much from these feelings. It creates a fascinating tension, expressed best by the chorus: "IT'S NOT FAAAAIIIRRRRRR!", stretched over a fizzy, tightly-wound power-pop arrangement complete with a skyscraping synth line. Porter just can't help himself. We've all got feelings; why not scream them to the rafters? [8]

Katherine St. Asaph: Porter Robinson's brand of earnestness makes my heart feel burnt or dead. [5]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[shipcestuous]

One time I had the weirdest (and most ridiculously detailed!) incest-related dream. It was about a fictional anime, and while it's all kinda blurry now, I remember dreaming up the plot of a couple of episodes. I'd like to preface this ask with a big fat TW because the anime itself was kind of... old school in a sense, with ecchi-like jokes and gags that were handled in a very lighthearted way but objectively would have had to be treated as molestation of a teen girl in any more serious work.

Basically, the anime was about this high school student who was also a magical girl heroine. She had to balance her school life and friends with her secret identity while fighting a mysterious supernatural Big Bad and their lackeys as well as more mundane criminal. So far, so normal, right? But the twist was the her sidekick was her father, who didn't have any powers but drove her around to wherever she needed to be to fight evil and took care of her injuries after her battles.

Except... the dad was young, kind of DILF-y, and both a goofball and a total pervert. He perved on his daughter both in her magical girl/crimefighter persona (cheering whenever he got to see a panty shot during a fight thanks to the skimpy frilly outfit she naturally got during her transformation sequence, roping her into infiltrating some crime syndicate's hideout by masquerading as an exotic dancer) and in her civilian identity (trying to get her to wear a maid outfit while doing her chores around the house, gleefully suggesting he should spank her when the stress of trying to figure out what the Big Bad's goal actually was caused her to have a a bit of an attitude).

The daughter was understandably weirded out and embarrassed by his behavior, but it was played less in a "her dad is a creep and she should try to get away from him asap" and more like she thought he was a cringy loser who frustratingly insisted on behaving like an irresponsible kid. There was plenty of slapstick humor where she punched him in the face or hit him with over the head with whatever was at hand to get him to leave her alone, but also a lot of times where she just made comments like "ugh, Dad, I shouldn't be the mature person in this house" or "stop being a gross old man, we're in public!" She didn't think much of her father's attraction to her, but it seemed to be mostly because she wanted to date boys her age with whom to do cute teenage romance stuff.

Obviously, the dad was extremely jealous of any boy who showed an interest in her, but he showed it less by being openly hostile to them and more by getting extra handsy and possessive around them to weird them out and turn them off the idea of dating her and dealing with more of that, or even by tricking them into appearing even more perverted than him. At least until she met a shy, quiet boy who was supposed to be her endgame love interest, who surprisingly took it all in stride, blushing a lot but being very polite to him and still very affectionate towards the daughter at the end of the day.

Eventually, a flashback from the point of view of the dad was shown and it turned out he was a widower and his wife had died when the daughter was a baby. Grief had thrown him into a downwards spiral, not helped by the fact that, because he and the wife had married very young and against the will of their families, they were struggling economically. But taking care of the daughter had become the one light in his life and he had resolved to fight against his despair, get his act together and give her the life he'd been unable to give her mother. Through the years, his feelings had turned into outright adoration, and while the daughter was growing up from an adorable child into a smart, determined, responsible teenage girl, into romantic love. And eventually, when her body started developing, also into physical attraction. He had initially decided not to act on any of it... but his feelings were just too strong to repress them or ignore them, so he decided it would be easier to deal only with the sexual side of things, because he could deal with his daughter refusing him over and over again when it came to that but he feared he wouldn't be strong enough to stand her telling him she'd never love him the same way.

Unfortunately, I don't remember how the story ended after that. But I like to think the dad would have eventually had to have an open conversation about his feelings with his daughter and that, no matter her response, they would have been okay somehow.

Wow, that's so detailed!

It was so easy for me to picture it as an old anime.

[ilredeiladri]

I just found this attempt to the task "change an existing story by letting a character appear unexpectedly and ruin the ending" in my drafts. I'd totally forgotten that I ever wrote this but I must admit that I love it 😂

>“This is the final round, Laertes”, Hamlet growls. “Prepare to lose!”

“We will see”, Laertes retorts and raises his rapier.

“Oh, stop it, boys!” a high, very familiar voice rings out from the entrance of the throne room. Both fencers spin around to search for the speaker. As they see the girl, that is standing there soaking wet wearing a white dress and a flower crown, they gasp for air.

“I know, I know”, Ophelia sighs, “you are totally shocked to see me. But guess what? I don’t care. I’m sick to death of your childish behaviour – no pun intended. Hammy, you already killed my dad because of this lunacy, so leave my brother alone. You aren’t much of a fighter after all, are you? So better stick to your books and your little loverboy – yes, I mean you, Horatio. Please take this fool of a prince back to your studies. Whatever you do there... I don’t care. Just leave! And Laelae? Stop bitching around just because you’re frustrated by your trip to France. Guess what, people can survive getting dumped without starting a revolution. Maybe it’s time to grow up and accept that you aren’t as irresistible as you think. Other people can live with that and so will you. Just grow up, big brother! And STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT! Both of you!”

As if by command Hamlet and Laertes drop their gazes to the floor. It’s hard to tell which of them looks more ashamed and embarrassed. Nobody in the room, not even the king, says a word.

“Have I made myself clear?!” Ophelia asks and the two boys that were about to kill each other a second before nod in unison.

“Good”, Ophelia smiles pleased. She steps forward and picks the rapier from Laertes’ hand. “Let me take this before someone gets hurt. Do you have anything to say before I leave?”

“I love you”, Hamlet grovels. “I’d drink Eisel for you!”

“I love you more”, Laertes hastens to affirm. “I’d drink Eisel AND eat a crocodile.”

“Oh, don’t be pathetic, you two!” Ophelia snorts rolling her eyes. Then she walks straight up to the golden goblet filled with wine that’s standing next to the king.

“Do your highness mind if I take that?” she asks and grabs the goblet without waiting for an answer. Claudius’ eyes widen as she raises the cup to her lips.

“Don’t drink that, girl! It’s poison!” he shouts in horror.

“Yeah, I should hope so”, Ophelia rejoins with a shrug. “I’m so sick of this stupid world. And after I reckoned that drowning isn’t the best way for suicide when you are an excellent swimmer, this might be a more successful attempt. Cheerio, you losers!” Nobody tries to stop her as she downs the wine in one gulp while starting to walk back towards the double door through that she had stepped in just a few moments ago. The last thing the thunderstruck people she leaves behind see is how she carelessly throws the goblet on the ground and struts out of the door, Laertes’ rapier still in hand.

Minutes tick away until someone dares to move again.

“Wow”, Hamlet whispers. “What a woman.”

“Hands off of my sister!” Laertes mumbles automatically.

“Well, if the king spoke the truth, she may be dead already” Horatio objects "So..." He tellingly arches his eyebrows. Hamlet and Laertes interchange a look before they both break into tears as if they have gotten an invisible signal. Horatio sighs.

“Well… I kind of understand her”, he mutters while patting Hamlet’s back. “You two are actually the biggest dumbheads I ever met.”<

[sneezemonster15]

i can totally understand why young girls would ship SS in the early-mid 2000’s. it was so easy to self-insert. take me for example, i was a young child with an unrequited crush on a popular boy and a total loser. i projected hard. she started getting on my nerves really quick tho. by the time i figured out how to watch shippuden (it was only available online in my country) i could no longer stand her. i know many people grew out of that ship as they matured themselves and realized just how bad it was, but i seriously don’t understand how so many of the og fans are still around, reveling in scraps given to them only in the form of non-canon material. it’s so embarrassing. and knowing that so many grown ass women cling to that nasty ship as if their lives depend on it makes me squirm in discomfort.

Wait I am confused. This person was a boy or a girl?

I think I understand. I know for a fact that there are many SNS fans who once were SS shippers. But they grew up and took responsibility for how they consumed media, which happens when a certain amount of self awareness sinks in..with time and experience..internally processing data received from the external world, which as a result, sharpens your intuition. Which then directly affects how you view and then process further external data. Data gathered from real life and media.

I suspect that many SS/NH shippers who are insanely delusional about their ship are simply operating on emotions. Think about the kind of arguments they give others. They know what constitutes canon, what doesn't. They know SNS is legit, it's all fucking there. They know SS is bullshit, they know Kishi mocks Sakura and SS like no one's business (like honestly, who's asking him to do it? Really what obligation is he under? This otherwise humble, quietly intelligent, kinda goofy, a bit childlike and deeply introspective at the same time, and frankly kinda mousy man, says such blatantly snarky and downright insulting shit about his own characters as if he ain't the author who is freaking writing them that way in the first place. Lol, no really, Kishi is a bundle of contradictions himself.) Lol.

But coming back, I really do struggle sometimes to find the right tone to talk about SS stans or address them. I suspect internet and anonymity gives them a free rein to exercise fulfilment of desires indiscriminately. They can behave however they want, believe whatever makes them happy and no one gets to destroy that as long as they are fulfilled. Numbers help. Stans give and receive validation from their peers. Whatever external validation they need to keep believing in SS ship, despite everything that negates it in canon, they get from others in their ship and they give validation to them in return. A sense of community builds. There's strength in numbers. And so dogmas and headcanons acquire a semblance of truth for them, through this very effective echo chamber, it fortifies their wacky theories and headcanons and they sheath themselves deliberately from reason, or anything that threatens to question their beliefs/belief systems that serve the object of their self comfort, desire, fulfilment. Their beliefs are really emotional in nature, you can't fight emotions, and internet gives them a platform to experience those emotions. Age doesn't matter if one isn't self aware. Lots of old people are shitty. Of course, I don't support enabling it but I guess I understand it a bit. Because I also get emotional here. I feel much more free to experience my raw emotions without trying to camouflage it too much. I reasoned with myself soon after joining this fandom, my first fandom, that here, I was a fan first, so I shouldn't judge myself too harshly for my opinions and understanding. A lot of which is way more emphatic compared to how much I would let it show it IRL. Media, stories and art have that effect on people.

And I feel conflicted sometimes. But well, the same reason exculpates me as well. I can be emotional and talk about them freely because this is a fandom and we are all here because of the same story that affected all of us. The only difference is we are insecure about different things. Lol.

Which is why I make it a point to not interact with them, because I know I would lose my patience with them much sooner than I with other people I don't generally agree with.

I understand why women do it. Even if I cannot relate with Sakura. So I vent on this platform while not actively engaging them.

But at the end of day, I feel everyone should expect so much more from themselves because more than anything else, Sakura's and Hinata's characters by design are so limited. Like I know it's all tied up with their self esteem, or its lack thereof, but at least don't glorify something that makes you this limited and miserable. Don't tell me it's better than everything else and is the best thing in the world because it is not. It is so small, So cheap. Such a piddling thing, so reductive and limiting and humiliating. Why project on those two? You should expect so much better from yourself. Like why can't you dream bigger at least in your imagination? Where you can have everything or anything you want, and nothing gives you a better opportunity to do that than media, but you choose the most limiting of all things and characters? Isn't it suffocating and painful? Well, in any case, just don't glorify it, turning a blind eye to facts and then gaslight me for my stuff. That's not acceptable. Even if I know where you are coming from, don't justify it. It gives the wrong impression to others, especially other women, who have enough odds stacked against them already for you to jump in on the bandwagon too, and being women yourselves no less, it's humiliating for both of us.

They use their emotions as a free ticket to say and do things indiscriminately, without thought and honesty. Cultivating emotions (and sharing them) should enrich you and help you grow, not make you regress even more.

[nervosims]

For the character thing, Vidcund? Or Nervous. Or both?

vidcund and nerv! i would love to omg

Sexuality Headcanon:

For Vidcund, he's deffo straight! and he's one of those whiny guys who complains that girls don't like good guys anymore (loser)

Nervous would consider himself gay, but he has pretty low attraction to everyone in general, and is kinda asexual. I think he's be much more of a companion than a boyfriend yk

Gender Headcanon:

Vidcund is a dude!

Nervous lacks object permanence so if he cannot see it then it doesn't exist. He cannot see gender so it's just not a thing for him. But he puts man on surveys out of habit

A ship I have with said character:

Vidcund x no-one because I see him as just that uncle that complains about being single but does not improve himself in anyway. OR! he builds a robot partner to spend his life with

Nervous and Pascal ofc!

A BROTP I have with said character:

Vidcund and Doctor Newlow would be friends, mostly because they give the same pathetic meow meow vibes yk. Newlow wears spandex like a weirdo, and goes around mind-controlling people, and Vidcund sold his brother's baby to have a chance with his ex.

Nervous would absolutely love his little niece, Jill. Jill gives me weird girl energy who would bite the heads off of her dolls. I feel like he can relate to her on a deeper level yk

A NOTP I have with said character:

Tbh I'm not too opposed to seeing Vidcund with anyone, I just never really pair him with anyone.

Nervous with any woman ever. I like to pretend parts of the ps2 game didn't happen <3

A random headcanon:

Vidcund loves yodelling, but everyone else around him gets embarrassed when he brings it up so he stopped quite quickly. His special interest is botany, so he spends hours reading up on cool plant facts that he can infodump on Lazlo (stoner) who grows his own shit

Nervous has very low object permanence so sometimes he forgets that Tycho is in the house until he sees the kid crawling around. He also doesn't miss Pascal when he's not around most days (Pascal doesn't really take it personal). I feel like his nerve endings are completely fried so he can't feel pain whatsoever. He'll burn his hand on the stove and won't realise until he looks down.

General Opinion over said character:

Vidcund is just a pathetic little man. think reigen from mob psycho! you're supposed to look at him and be like oh my god man my condolences. Everything in his life is a joke, including himself, but that's why I love him

i love nervous! Nervous is deffo a super detached person (i feel like it makes sense for the guy with a very rough upbringing to not be the friendliest or warmest yk). so when i see some fanon of him being a smol bean (TM) i'm just like, no lskdhfksdf.

[the-firebird69]

You come by here you bother me with your ship I tested I'm trying to test my tires out to see how fast they can go I get 25 miles per hour because you keep creating a headwind with your ship or ball or whatever it is the stupid things that follow you around people can grab and see if it leads to mega AI

Firstly you don't do that to me Tommy F cuz I'm going to chop you up and let you on fire you chopped up Jackie karate and that happens to be Trump and he's going to go after you

Secondly you don't follow me that close with an object that's not legal you're not here legally in the United States your body you should have died as John McCain now you're back you should be dead and you're here illegally you're a criminal you don't belong here you're not legally anywhere on top side anywhere in the earth you can be arrested and you should be cuz if you're doing this to me you're doing it to other people did you threaten me to go after Max and Cork and Trump and blame them for killing the max

HERE'S WHAT YOU HAVE TO REMEMBER WE'RE REAL ISLAM AND YOU USE THEIR NAME IN VAIN WE GET YOU BACK A THOUSAND TIMES FOR THAT I'M A REAL AMERICAN AND YOU'RE HAVING ME SHOUT AT MY GUYS A LITTLE EVEN THOUGH I GOT TO THE ANSWERS I NEED. TO HANDLE THE SITUATION APPROPRIATELY AS THE LEADER. I DO THANK YOU FOR THAT LOSER BUT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU'RE IN AMERICA WHERE AMERICANS WE GET REVENGE FOR YOU DOING THAT YOU WANT TO GO UP AND MESS WITH THESE DRINKING DICKS BY THREATENING ME WHICH DOESN'T FLY AND YOU WON'T EITHER. WE'RE GOING TO INFILTRATE ALL OF YOUR BASES YOUR SHIPS ARE GOING TO BE MINE WE'RE GOING TO GET REVENGE ON YOU FOR TODAY'S PERFORMANCE. YOU EMBARRASSED ONE OF OURS FROM THOR FREYA CADRE ZIGZAG AND HE WILL GET REVENGE ON YOU BECAUSE THAT'S THEIR STAPLE YOU DON'T MESS WITH THEM AND THEY HAVE TO LAY IT ON THE LINE AND LAY DOWN THE LAW TO SAVE FACE AND SO DO WE BUT NOT SO MUCH AS THEY DO THEY'RE FANATICS ABOUT IT AND YOU'RE GOING TO PAY. THE PEOPLE IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD SEE YOU DOING YOUR STUPID IDIOT S*** TO ME AND YOU'RE THE FANATIC LOSER TRYING TO SHOOT ME YOU'RE THE IDIOT CHANGING THE WIND DIRECTION ALL THE TIME HAVING SHIPS FLYING ABOVE PEOPLE ALL DAY LONG HARASSING THEM USING EMITTERS AND YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR IT GRANTED THEY'RE HERE TOO BUT YOU DO IT ALL THE TIME AND THEY'RE SEEING IT THEY SPOT YOUR STUFF EVERYWHERE AND YOU'RE GOING TO PAY THE PIPER FOR YOUR ACTIONS AND YOU DON'T CARE CUZ YOU'RE A BIG BOY YOU'RE A BIG BABY BOY WHO WANTS TO LAUNCH HIS SHIPS AND DESTROY EVERYBODY YOU'RE GOING TO BE F*** THIS TIME I'VE GOT COVER I DON'T NEED TO TAKE IT FROM YOU YOU'RE A RETARD AND I'M GOING TO GET REVENGE ON YOU RETARD AND NOW YOU KNOW HOW I HAVE TO HOW IT HAS TO BE DONE TAKE A GUESS TAKE A WAG AT IT LOSER THAT'S ALL YOU'RE GOING TO GET TO SAY SO YOU BETTER TAKE A GUESS

Zues

Hera

You're going to do it to me as many times as it takes

Tommy f I'm sitting here trying to capture you as many times it takes and what you say is I'm going to get very hurt I get very hurt the other night as a matter of fact it might have been my whole brain they tell me no but I can't tell so really we're going to get revenge on the clones now you say tons of them they said if an action is started and I believe them they're going to make fountains of blood of yours everywhere thousands of miles in the air all all because of you Tommy says I can do it with just a worm just an actual worm like a huge earthworm

Sure I'm embarrassed that was ridiculous there's a right to be pissed off Frank Castle Hardcastle not at you but boy it would make anybody very angry he's just a****** trying to shoot him and he's blowing the wind at him every time that he tries to go down the road it takes two or three seconds up to 22 seconds for him to start blowing a counterwind but he's doing it and a certain time right when he tries to hit over 25 and it's a sissy reason as well he's juicing it up on the power line I mean that's ridiculous and we can see you using the power line freaking moron that's not why idiot I'm going to get back at you you're a stupid person you don't listen to warnings so you just have to hit you yeah part of your brain came flying out your eyeball you f**** because you swallow the bomb everybody was telling you and you said I'm swallowing a bum because you're a stupid freaking Jabberwocky you're going to go get mutated you're going to mess up Shazam throw them out the window and start a little bit of a war everywhere you too idiots that's what you're going to do so you did that to try and do that so now we're going to make it very hard for you but we don't have to make it easy for you and we need a lot of your stuff so thank you very much

Zig Zag

You see them in Australia coming down the tunnel so far today they did three times in a hundred trillion from both sides died each time they're going to keep doing it

Bka

Our kaiju should be up by the end of the day and I can't wait and he wants me to call some of the first hits and I'm going to do that shortly

Zig Zag

I find it so ridiculous I called out 50 million hits on Tommy F and it's higher-ups we're tolerating this enemy who's a complete madman and he has way too much power and way too many weapons I've had it with him they're not warring and stuff and it's going to be over for him and our friend is right we just take it over let me do a false flag and we're making it anyways so those kids came to me this morning and said we have the argument is before this nonsense they came to us afterwards with the argument and it's perfect it's their stuff it's got all the markings it's got their bodies it's a smaller Force and we're going to do it

Thor Freya

So it had to be forced and he says it wasn't going to be that particular direction but it is now and we need to know what Tommy f is actually going to do with regards to the middle area looks like that he's going to go after it because he's sitting cork and I'm saying we would have to fight him and we still have to but it might not be him and he's incompetent so we suck too this morning blue talking and talking like this f****** idiots you're so God damn stupid and to leave your f****** head out the window and tell him you're up there to come pick you up cuz yesterday you took this they go right up the stairs and they shoot you in the head you dumb f****** idiots

Mac