#i mean i got some off my system by making that one meme with the clasping hands

[an1muuarts]

theres an ep/chapter named egg i cant fucking believe this

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - handle with care

warnings ; oral (f recieving), he hits it from the back, hair pulling, blue collar dick🚨🚨

prompt ; in which your landlord sends an electrician to fix your power, and you end up learning firsthand the magic of blue collar dick.

note ; if you are reading this.. this is a queue’d post while im in MEXICO!!!!! you horny little sluts really thought i would leave you alone for 5 days.. i would never. i figured — hey if i can’t post part 5 of tpod i can at least give a life lesson on blue collar dick, right? backstory here is that the other day my best friend and i had a conversation about our sexy ass landlord and that got me thinking… jungkook..? blue collar..? big dick..? so anyways this is the product of that convo! (and also a standalone one shot bc yall be loving these!)

Later, when someone asks you to recap this story, you’ll say that in your defense, you weren’t expecting the electrician to look like he walked straight off some cringy Pornhub set. You’ll say you just wanted your electricity fixed, not to be spiritually humbled by a man who smells like sawdust and pine.

Your apartment is the kind of place that builds character. And by character, you mean mild trauma.

The kitchen light flickers like it’s been possessed since the day you moved in. The ceiling creaks when your upstairs neighbor sneezes. Your shower only has two settings (arctic and molten lava). There’s a weird stain on the ceiling you’ve been ignoring for three months. And today, of all days, the universe decided to cut the last thread holding your sanity together: the power.

No lights. No working outlets. No WiFi. Which means you’re sitting on your couch, in a hoodie and shorts, trying to hotspot your laptop with 3% battery left while rage-texting your landlord like you’re filing an official grievance with Satan himself.

You immediately text your landlord, fully expecting a five-day delay and a $30 deduction off your next rent.

You: hi. respectfully. what the FUCK is happening?

You: i work from home. i pay rent. i have needs. pls fix ASAP.

He replies five minutes later like he’s doing you a personal favor.

Landlord: sending my guy over. 15 mins.

Your landlord is somehow both your greatest nemesis and your weirdest emotional support system. He’ll ignore three maintenance requests, ghost you for a week, then show up unannounced with a half-eaten bag of Hot Cheetos. You’ve threatened to sue him in writing and sent him a happy birthday meme in the same month. And you’re already halfway into a mental spiral about “his guy” being a 60-year-old with pants that don’t stay up and opinions about the current political climate when there’s a knock at your door.

You swing the door open, fully expecting to see a crusty old man with a clipboard and a wheeze, and instead, you see… (and you’ll remember this moment until the day you die.)

Lip ring. Tattoo sleeve. Tool belt slung low over cargo pants. A black tee stretched across broad shoulders. Jesus Christ, the hair. Dark, slightly shaggy, pushed back on top but long in the back, curling at the nape of his neck in a way that should not be allowed near unsupervised women.

“Hey’,” he says, like this isn’t a pivotal moment in your sexual awakening. “I’m here about the outage?”

You blink at him. You are officially unfit for conversation.

This man has a mullet. A tattooed, lip-ringed, mullet-wearing man is standing in your hallway holding a voltage tester like its foreplay.

Suddenly, your pajama shorts feel too short for this moment. You fumble with the doorknob, “Uh. Yeah. Come in. It’s, uh.. yeah.”

Brilliant. Shakespeare could never.

He steps inside, and holy shit, he’s even taller than you thought. The kind of tall that makes your ceilings feel shorter. The kind of tall where you have to crane your neck just slightly to look up at him, which is offensive because you’re not exactly short yourself. He smells like a mix of sawdust, a hint of pine, laundry detergent, and a 2002 Nissan Altima. It’s oddly specific.

He glances around like he’s surveying a battlefield. “Power cut out completely?”

You nod, shuffling behind him as he moves farther into your apartment with the kind of confidence like he’s somehow been to your home before. His boots thud across your hardwood floor, scuffed and loud. The tool belt clinks. His shirt rides up when he stretches his arm to check something near the ceiling and there’s a flash of golden skin and low-slung cargo pants and—

You’re not doing well.

He pops open the panel in the ceiling like it’s nothing. “Y’all been having issues with this before? Flickering? Dead outlets?”

“Sometimes the kitchen light hums like it’s possessed,” you say, which you regret immediately. “I mean, not literally possessed. Not like.. haunted. Just… you know. Buzzing.”

He chuckles. It’s a low, gravelly sound that sinks its teeth into your spine and doesn’t let go.

“Probably a loose connection in the junction box. Nothing too crazy,” he says, grabbing something from his belt that you will now dream about tonight. “You work from home?”

You nod again, helpless. “Yeah. Marketing.”

He glances back at you. “Tough with no WiFi.”

You turn around under the guise of “letting him work” but really just to text your roommate, Sana, with trembling fingers.

You: help. our power went out and the electrician we got sent is so hot

You: he has a MULLET. a mullet, sana. he said “junction box” and i almost moaned

You hear him grunt softly as he stretches to reach something and you nearly drop your phone.

Sana: SEND A PIC RN

You sneak a glance back — he’s perched on your step stool, arms flexing as he reaches into the ceiling. His hair is curling perfectly at the back of his neck, a little messy from the heat.

You don’t send a pic. You can’t. It feels criminal. You feel like you’re watching live porn with consequences.

Then he speaks again, casually. “You smell something burning last night? Or anything weird before it cut out?”

You nearly say “just my ovaries,” but God reaches down and slaps your mouth shut.

Instead, you clear your throat. “Nope. No sparks, no smell. It just… died this morning.”

He nods, focused. “Might be a fuse then. I’ll check the basement in a sec.”

He drops down from the stool with a casual thud and wipes his hands on that rag in his back pocket. That ass, that rag. This is no longer an apartment. It’s a crime scene.

You glance up just in time to see him walking toward your front door, lifting the back of his shirt to wipe his forehead. You black out for a second.

You: he just wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his shirt. i saw ab muscle. like cut definition. i think it smiled at me.

Sana: you need jail or a CONDOM stat. get his number???

You’re halfway through typing “I don’t even know his name yet” when the front door opens behind you, and you almost launch your phone across the room like it’s a grenade.

He steps back into your apartment with that casual, unbothered energy he’s so good at carrying. Hair slightly damp at the edges now, cheeks pink from the walk up your stairs, tool belt still jingling.

“Basement breaker’s fine,” he says, brushing his palm down the front of his shirt. “Might be a wiring issue. Gonna check one more thing.”

You blink. Nod. Attempt human speech. Fail. “Cool. Yeah. Check… stuff.”

Christ. You sound like you learned English from Duolingo five minutes ago.

He smiles then, actually smiles. Full teeth, little bunny front ones peeking out. His lip ring glints as he does it, and your brain goes completely static for a second.

“Want some water?” you blurt, and immediately hate yourself. “Or iced tea? Or, whatever I have in the fridge that isn’t expired?”

He huffs out a little laugh, shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks, sweetheart.”

You freeze like you’ve been slapped by a porn star. He walks past you again like nothing happened, reaching for something in his tool bag, completely unaware that your soul just evacuated your body.

You unlock your phone immediately, fingers trembling, and text in all caps.

You: HE CALLED ME SWEETHEART.

You: arrest him. make him marry me. i don’t care just make it LEGAL

You barely get the message out when he turns slightly and casually, and says, “So… you live here with your boyfriend, or…?”

You blink hard.

The question hangs there, just slightly too relaxed. Like it’s not loaded with potential. Like it’s not every Wattpad plotline you’ve ever read come to life in front of your half-broken Ikea bookshelf.

Your brain short-circuits harder than your kitchen socket. Is he flirting? Was that… are you being flirted with? It’s been a minute. Like, a long minute since you’ve had someone show genuine interest in you. You can’t tell anymore. He could be asking because he needs to know whose ass he’s about to get chewed out by if he knocks something over, or because he’s just curious.

You manage to croak out, “Just my roommate. Sana.”

He nods and doesn’t press. He lets out a low, distracted, “Hm,” like that’s useful information. Like it slots into place somewhere in his head and he’s okay with it.

You, meanwhile, are mentally drafting a will because you’re not sure your heart’s going to survive the rest of this visit.

He leans over your couch armrest to reach the outlet near the floor. His cargo pants pull slightly tighter around his thighs and you look away so fast you give yourself whiplash. You try to look normal, like a woman who isn’t catastrophically horny over someone adjusting your voltage.

You: HE ASKED IF I HAD A BOYFRIEND

Sana: I AM SCREAMING. I’M IN LINE AT TRADER JOE’S. OFFER TO MAKE HIM LEMONADE OR SIT ON HIS FACE IDK CHOOSE FAST

He stands back up, wiping his palms on that stupid fucking rag again, and glances over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t take much longer,” he quips with that lazy, dangerous smile.

You nod, eyes wide, pretending you’re normal. “Cool. Thanks. No rush or anything. It’s not like I need power to… survive.”

He quirks a brow at that, like he finds you kind of funny, or kind of tragic.

You sit on the couch, phone hidden in your lap like it’s a shameful secret. He crouches near another outlet, testing something with one of those little gadgets that beeps and blinks.

“So, marketing,” he says over his shoulder. “Like… ads?”

You blink. “Uh. Yeah. I work for a beauty brand. Mostly social media, some campaign strategy. Lots of pretending I know what I’m doing and hoping the algorithm doesn’t hate me that day.”

He chuckles. That low, amused sound that makes your toes curl. “That why you’re so good at talking?”

You freeze. “What?”

He glances back, smile creeping in slow and lazy. There’s an unfortunate amount of sarcasm behind his tone. “You seem to stumble a bit over words.”

You blink again, officially out of working brain cells. “Sorry. I—I can stop. I don’t mean to be annoying, I just—”

“I didn’t say it was annoying.” He doesn’t look at you when he says it. He crouches lower again, tapping something against the outlet. But you hear it anyway and feel it, low in your stomach like a dropped elevator.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, blessedly interrupting the moment before you combust.

Sana: girl. do i need to walk around the block or are you gonna fuck him. be honest.

You bite your lip so hard you nearly draw blood. He straightens up, wiping his palms again. “So do you like it? The job?”

“Oh. Um. Yeah. It’s… stressful. But fun, sometimes. I guess,” You scratch the back of your neck.

“You good at it?” He grunts out, looking for something in his toolbox.

Your mind blanks. “What?”

He turns to look at you full-on now, arms crossed, shirt clinging to the curve of his shoulders. “Marketing. All that stuff. You good at it?”

You let out a nervous little laugh. “I mean, I hope so. I’ve been doing it for a few years now, and nobody’s fired me yet.”

“That’s not what I asked.” His tone isn’t aggressive. It’s low and relaxed. But something about the way he says it makes your pulse skip.

“I… I think I am,” you say, slower this time.

He nods once as if that answer pleases him. “You seem like you’d be.”

You’re gonna die. You’re going to actually die. This man is being nice to you, and it feels like your body isn’t prepared for that level of stimulus.

You glance at your phone again.

Sana: WHY ARE YOU TAKING THIS LONG TO RESPOND??? IS HIS DICK OUT. BLINK TWICE

You look back up and he’s leaning against the doorframe that divides your kitchen and living room now, arms still crossed, lip ring catching the light. “So your roommate…?”

You nod, trying not to choke. “Yeah. Her name’s Sana. We’ve lived together since college.”

“She at work?” You swear he looks at your legs in your shorts, but could also be wishful thinking.

“Not right now. She works night shifts at the hospital 15 minutes away from here.,” You twiddle your thumbs in your lap.

He hums, still watching you. “So you’re here all alone today.”

It’s not a question. It shouldn’t be hot. It’s just a sentence. But, the way he says it? The tone? The slight lilt at the end, like it means more than it says?

You let out a strangled sound that you hope reads as a laugh. “Yeah. Just me. Alone. In this… apartment. Where you are. Currently.”

He tilts his head, smiling again. “You’re kind of funny for someone with no electricity.”

You hesitate. Then, blurting before you can stop yourself, “And you’re kind of cocky for someone who still hasn’t turned my lights on yet.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk slowly appearing. “Hm?”

You shake your head way too fast. “I mean—just—like, you’ve been here for a bit now and you’re fixing my power and it is taking quite long, but I promise I’m not mad about it.. I’m sorry.”

He lets out a real laugh this time. Full, low, and stupidly hot. He pushes off the wall and walks back toward the kitchen like he didn’t just wreck your central nervous system.

You take another breath and text Sana.

You: he’s flirting. he’s literally flirting. i want to crawl inside the oven

Sana: girl. jump on the counter and say “while you’re fixing things, i’m also broken.”

Almost like he was trying to prove a point to you, the lights come back on with a quiet click, a whirr of electricity humming back to life through your walls, and you swear the sound might as well be a death knell.

He steps back from the panel in your hallway, tapping the side of it with a knuckle like he just fixed your entire infrastructure. “There we go,” he says, “Should be good now. Might’ve just been a loose connection behind the breaker, it’s common in these old buildings.”

You nod slowly, like you understood a single word of that. All you really heard was competency and your brain whispered: breedable.

“That’s… great,” you reply, way too softly. “Thanks.”

He wipes his hands again on that same rag and starts packing up his tools, metal clicking together as he slips things back into place. His forearm flexes with every movement, tattoos shifting across his skin like they��re in on the joke.

“Need help with anything else?” he asks casually, not looking at you as he zips up the tool bag. His voice dips slightly.

Your heart stutters. You should say actually, yeah, my back is acting up and I think the solution involves that couch and maybe you using me like a handrail. But instead you go, “Nope. That’s all.”

Your phone vibrates against your thigh, dragging you back to earth.

Sana: have you ever heard of blue collar dick??? this is ur chance

You squint at that text, thumbs pausing mid-reply.

Blue collar dick.

The phrase unlocks something buried deep in your brain. A memory. A TikTok you watched half-asleep one night at 1:37AM, under the glow of your LED lights, while eating dry cereal out of a mug. The girl had looked straight into the camera, wide-eyed and deadly serious, and whispered: “Blue collar dick is not just a concept. It’s a lifestyle. It’s the kind of unholy grip someone develops on you after a man with calloused hands and a union paycheck fixes your sink and rearranges your soul in the same afternoon.”

You’d laughed. Scoffed, even. How dramatic.

He zips up the last pouch on his tool bag and stands tall, glancing toward the door like he might head that way but he doesn’t. He stays.

He rolls his shoulder a little, absently adjusting the strap, and you watch his fingers drag across the curve of his neck.

“You think everything working alright?” he asks, voice low and unhurried like he’s trying to fill the silence. Like he knows you’re still stuck in some sort of horny trance and he’s being generous enough to let you catch up.

“Yeah,” you say, breathier than intended. “Power’s on. Looks like the WiFi is back. I can check if my laptop came back to life.”

You gesture toward your computer like it matters. Like any of that is worth focusing on when he is standing six feet from you.

He hums, looking around your living room where you’re still on your couch. “Place is cute.”

You blink. “Oh. Uh. Thanks. It’s… falling apart slowly, but charming.”

He doesn’t really acknowledge that. “Anything else broken in here?” he asks, stepping away from the wall a little. “Leaky faucet? Shaky table leg? My dad taught me how to fix a ton of stuff, I’m pretty handy with anything. You want me to check something else?”

Your mouth opens and closes. Your brain struggles to find the words, and the words you want to say are not coming out easily, so you just respond with, “No. I mean… no, I think we’re good. You fixed the lights.”

His eyes flicker and stay on you just a second too long. Then he shifts slightly, sets the tool box down again with a thud, and stretches his arms overhead like he’s got nowhere to be. Shirt rides up just enough for you to see the line of his waistband and the shadow of toned skin beneath it, and you almost bite your tongue off.

“You sure?” he asks again, tone casual, almost amused now. “You looked kinda… bummed when the lights came back on.”

Your head jerks up. “What? No. I wasn’t.. I mean, not bummed. Just surprised. Happy. Grateful. Electrified, if you will.”

Electrified. You’re going to throw yourself off the balcony.

He laughs again, and you swear it vibrates in your chest. “I could hang out a sec,” he offers, and it’s not subtle anymore. “Just make sure everything stays stable. Sometimes the lights will turn back off randomly.”

Everything’s stable, you repeat in your brain like an idiot. I am not.

He’s leaning one shoulder against the wall now, lazy and relaxed, eyes still on you like he’s just waiting to see what you’ll say next.

Before your brain can stop your mouth from doing anything reckless, you blurt out, “Have you eaten?”

His brows lift. “What?”

You clear your throat. “Lunch. Have you had any?”

He tilts his head, eyes flickering down to your mouth for one half-second too long. “Not yet,” he says, “Didn’t get the chance.”

You nod like this is normal. Like offering sandwiches to electricians with tool belts and stupidly sexy mullets is part of your daily routine. “I can make you something if you want.”

His mouth curves, slow and teasing. “Yeah? You feed all the guys your landlord sends over?”

You roll your eyes so hard they nearly eject from your skull. “Only the ones who save me from having to live in darkness.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Then yeah. I’m kinda hungry.”

He walks over to where you’re sitting, drops his bag beside the couch, stretches with a casual groan that shoots straight between your thighs, and flops onto your couch like he’s done it a hundred times. Like your couch is a perfectly acceptable throne for his man-spreading, bicep-showcasing, very-much-staying presence.

You twiddle your fingers, “If i make you food, it’s only right if I get your name.”

Smooth. Real fucking smooth.

“Jungkook,” He looks over to you, trying to bite back a grin. “And yours is [Y/N], right? Saw it on the assignment sheet.”

“Cool,” You gulp down some saliva that was lodged in your throat.

You march to the kitchen like a woman on a mission, flinging the fridge open with the determination of someone prepping for an exorcism. It’s not that you want to impress him. It’s just that… okay. No. You do want to impress him. You want to serve this man a sandwich so good he files a formal complaint against your thighs for being too far from his face.

You find good bread. Not the sad white slices. You find turkey. Cheese. Lettuce that isn’t slimy. A tomato you aggressively pat dry with a paper towel like a psychotic housewife. You toast the bread and add a little mustard. You even cut the sandwich diagonally, because if you’re going to be delusional, you’re going to be domestically deranged about it.

Your phone buzzes for the billionth time.

Sana: DID YOU FUCK HIM YET

You ignore her. You grab a little paper plate with a cup of water and a napkin and present this meal like you are some Michelin chef. You walk it out carefully, feeling like you should have a white linen apron and one of those vintage Coke ads playing behind you.

“Damn,” he says when you hand it to him, voice warm with surprise. “You really went all out.”

You shrug, trying to act chill. “Just a sandwich.”

He takes a bite and groans.“No, this is next level. Wife-tier sandwich.”

Your face goes hot. You sit down beside him on the couch, one cushion away, legs crossed, heart racing. You grab your phone and finally reply to Sana before she drives to the apartment and physically removes you.

You: sana i need you to take a lap. actually take a five-mile lap. this house needs to be mine for two hours minimum.

Sana: i will literally be gone until sunset

You set your phone down and glance at him again. He’s halfway through the sandwich already, clearly enjoying the hell out of it, crumbs on his fingers, lip ring glinting as he chews.

“So,” you say casually, “how’d you get into electrical work?”

He swallows, wipes his mouth, and shrugs. “Started out helping my uncle with his crew back home. Learned enough on the job that I stuck with it. Took the exam, got certified, picked up my own clients.”

“That’s hot,” you say before thinking.

He pauses, blinks, then smirks again. “Yeah?”

You want to shrivel into the cushions. “I mean, just like the hands-on thing. Fixing stuff. Being good with your hands.”

He glances at you, faintly amused. “It’s a bold choice… Flirting with the guy who knows your wires inside out better than you ever could.”

You’ve made your decision. You’ve committed to the bit. You’re going to have him. You don’t care how. You don’t care if it’s a terrible idea. You’re already halfway there, and if blue collar dick is a myth, you’d like to be the one to confirm or deny it firsthand. You smile, tilting your head. “I like living on the edge.”

He finishes the sandwich and sets the plate on your coffee table with a little sigh. “Damn. Guess I should’ve been in this line of work sooner.”

You let out a soft laugh, glancing at him through your lashes like you’re not actively in the process of losing your mind.

He shifts slightly on the couch, one arm thrown casually along the back cushion, knee brushing yours now, and your whole body tightens at the contact. You look down at his hand, rough, calloused, fingers spread just enough to imagine what they’d feel like anywhere else.

Focus. Focus.

“So,” you start, aiming for casual but landing somewhere around unhinged, “do you, like… do this for a lot of people?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Fix electricity?”

You laugh too fast. “No! Well, yeah. I mean. Yes. But like… do you do this for one person a lot? Regularly? Like… someone special. Like a client. A consistent client.”

He’s still watching you, brows slightly raised, clearly trying to follow your logic. “Huh?”

You look down, embarrassed. Shit. Too subtle. You double back. “Sorry, I meant… like… is there someone who, you know, gets their power fixed all the time? Like a… girlfriend?”

Oh my god. Girlfriend. You say it like you’ve never spoken English before, like the concept of casual inquiry never existed.

His lips tugging up like he knows exactly what you’re asking. “Nah,” he replies. “No girlfriend.”

He reaches for the glass of water you’d set on the coffee table earlier, and you watch his throat work as he takes a slow gulp. His lip ring catches the light again, and your brain completely flatlines.

No girlfriend.

No girlfriend. That’s… fine. That’s great. That’s also dangerous.

Your heart is pounding so loud in your ears you barely register that he hasn’t looked away. When he sets the glass down again, his eyes don’t drift back to his phone or the room or the vague distance.

They stay locked on you.

You shift slightly, suddenly hyperaware of how close you’re sitting. His fingers are still relaxed against the couch cushion, a breath away from the curve of your shoulder.

“Should I expect a full background check with your next outage?”he says, voice low now.

You’re officially in the danger zone now with no intentions of stopping. “Already ran yours. Five star reviews all around. “

He chuckles, quietly. “I’m honored.”

Your breath catches. It’s a small sound. Barely audible. But his gaze dips lower at the sound of it, flickering between your mouth and your throat. He doesn’t hide it anymore. There’s no playfulness left.

“Stop staring” you mutter, trying to keep your voice even.

He lifts a brow. “I’m not.”

“Are you… thinking about kissing me?” This is worse than that one time in 10th grade when you got put in a closet with your crush and you practically slammed him against the door begging him to kiss you.

However, Jungkook doesn’t smile or smile. His gaze lingers on your lips still like he’s counting the seconds. “Would that be a problem?”

Your stomach drops. The air between you turns solid. “No,” you say softly. “It’d be the opposite of a problem.”

He doesn’t move right away, or lunge and lean in. He lets the silence fill with heat, with potential, like he wants you to feel the choice stretch out and make sure you want it just as much as he does. (Is he insane? Of course you do)

You want him to kiss you so bad it’s physically painful. Every nerve in your body is waiting for it, screaming for it, for the weight of his hand on your jaw, the feel of his lip ring pressing into yours.

You inch just slightly closer and your knee brushes against his fully now. Your face is tilted up toward his without even thinking.

“Are you gonna?” you whisper, voice barely there.

His eyes flicker again and then he smiles. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He leans in, not in some clumsy rush. He drags it out just long enough for you to feel your whole body tense with anticipation. His hand finds your jaw first, thumb brushing your cheek, fingers curling gently under your chin.

And then his mouth is on yours.

He kisses you like it’s his job, like he’s done this a thousand times but still finds something new in the shape of your lips. His mouth moves with intention, none of that awkward fumbling, none of the soft, shy hesitation. It’s confident. His lip ring drags against your lower lip and you actually whimper, because of course he knows how to use it.

He groans low in his throat when your fingers knot in the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. One hand slips around the back of your neck, the other finding your waist, pulling you across the couch and into him like he can’t stand even a breath of space between you.

He tastes like faint mint and the sandwich you made him. Your legs shift, tangling with his. His hand is already on your thigh, rough palm skimming under the hem of your shorts, gripping hard enough to make your breath stutter into his mouth.

You gasp when he bites down lightly, but enough to make you feel it. He soothes it with a kiss immediately after, dragging his mouth down your jaw, and murmurs into your skin, “You’re a good kisser.”

You could die. You could die right now and it would be worth it.

You tilt your head back to give him more access, voice breathless. “Yeah? You’re not so bad yourself.”

That earns you another groan, this one deeper, more possessive. His hand slides up your side, under your hoodie, fingers grazing bare skin and making your back arch instinctively.

He kisses you again, messier now and wetter. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing. His fingers sink into your thigh, pull you closer until you’re practically straddling him on the couch and you feel him, hard beneath his cargo pants, pressed against your hip like a threat.

“You sure you don’t need anything else fixed?” he murmurs against your mouth.

And all you can do is nod, eyes heavy, hands trembling against his chest as you whisper: “Hmm. I think my body is out of order. Needs fixing.”

Big hands grip your thighs, and with one swift, greedy motion, he’s pushing you back into the couch cushions. You land with a quiet gasp, hair fanned out, lips swollen, hoodie riding up over your stomach.

He’s hovering, body caged above yours, weight pressed into one arm braced beside your head, the other skimming up your waist and dragging your hoodie even higher. His silver chain dangles loose from his neck and every time he leans down to kiss you again, it smacks against your throat, cold and heavy, sending a shiver straight through you.

He groans when you arch up into him, letting your hips roll slightly, needy and desperate, and he feels it, feels how bad you want him and how worked up you are.

His bicep flexes beside your head, holding himself up so he doesn’t crush you but you kind of wish he would. You let your hand drift up, fingertips grazing the muscle slowly, shamelessly.

Holy fuck, he’s strong.

Strong in the way that makes your thighs press together, that makes you want to find out what else those arms can hold you down against. You squeeze just a little, test the resistance, and he grins against your lips.

“That’s what you’re thinkin’ about?” he murmurs, dragging his mouth to your neck now, teeth grazing your jaw. “My arms?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your brain is literally melting.

He licks a stripe up the side of your throat and bites, just enough to make you whimper, and the damn chain swings again, cold against the same spot.

“You like that?” he asks, “Hmm?”

You nod frantically, whining. You’re gone.

His hand slides down to grip your thigh again, hiking it up around his waist, and the angle has you gasping. His hips dip into yours just enough to make it obvious: he’s hard, and he’s not even trying to hide it now.

“You gonna let me take care of you?” he mutters, biting your earlobe. “Since you fed me and everything. Feels only fair.”

You nod again, breathless. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says, lips brushing yours. “Been thinkin’ about kissing you since the second you opened that door.”

His hands are already slipping under the hem of your hoodie, thumbs dragging across the skin of your waist as he mutters, low and sinful, “Lift your hips for me.”

You do instantly and he slides your shorts down so slowly it feels like punishment. They snag slightly at your thighs before he gets them off, flinging them somewhere over the armrest, and then he just stares. Lets his eyes drag from your knees to the place between your thighs like he’s about to pray and commit a felony in the same breath.

You’re not even fully naked, but you already feel exposed. Every part of you twitching with anticipation because the way this man looks at you? It’s like he already knows what you taste like.

He lowers himself, right between your knees and spreads your legs open with two hands and drags your body closer to him.

“You’re already shaking,” he whispers, lips brushing along the inside of your thigh. “What’s got you so worked up, sweetheart?”

You want to answer. You try to answer. But then he presses a kiss right above your knee, then lower and lower. It’s like he’s savoring every inch of you, kissing a trail up your thigh like you’re dessert and he’s been starving all day.

When he finally gets to your underwear, he lets out a low hum.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, thumb dragging along the edge. “You’re soaked.”

You choke on your own spit. He hooks his fingers under the waistband, and looks up at you, eyes dark. You’re propped up on your elbows, watching him like you’re in a live-action fantasy, because that’s exactly what it feels like.

“Gonna take these off now,” he says, almost too gently.

You nod like a bobblehead. “Please.”

He tugs them down painfully slow, and when they slip off your legs and drop to the floor, he doesn’t even hesitate. He just dives in.

Tongue flat, broad, ruthless against you, dragging through your folds. You jolt, hips bucking off the couch, and his hands immediately slide up to pin you down, fingers bruising your thighs as he holds you in place.

He moans into you, tongue curling, lips wrapping around your clit with slow, maddening pressure. The suction makes you cry out, hand flying to grab at his hair, soft, messy strands you curl your fingers into.

“Fuck, J-Jungkook,” you gasp. His grip tightens on your thighs in response. He flattens his tongue again, licking long and slow, nose nudging against your clit just enough to make your legs shake. Then he shifts, tilts his head just slightly, and flicks the tip of his tongue in tight, fast circles.

You swear you see God.

He doesn’t stop, and it’s obscene how good it is. You can hear it. Mapping out every flick, every swirl, every suck that makes your thighs twitch and your head fall back in helpless, high-pitched whines.

He’s so good at it, it’s almost infuriating. Like he’s been training for this specific moment, like he knew your body before you ever laid eyes on his goddamn toolbelt.

“Shit,” you whimper, your fingers gripping the edge of the couch like you’ll fall off the earth if he keeps going.

He pulls back barely, enough to murmur against your soaked skin, “What’s that, sweetheart?”

You look down at him, wide-eyed and desperate, and the sight makes your stomach flip.

His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, locked on yours with zero shame. His lips are wet, his lip ring gleaming, his chain dragging down your thigh. His hands are still gripping your legs tight. “You’re already shaking,” he taunts, “You gonna fall apart before I even get my fingers in?”

You let out a sound you don’t recognize. Your hips buck without permission, trying to chase more friction, more pressure, anything, and he laughs.

“Thought you were gonna take it,” he mutters, kissing your inner thigh again, right where it’s already slick. “Thought you were tough.”

“Jungkook,” Your voice breaks.

“Yeah, baby?” he smiles, “Want more?”

You nod frantically. “Please. Please, please.”

“Mmhmm.” He drags his tongue back up, slow and torturous. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want—” you gasp as he suckles your clit again, just hard enough to make your legs spasm. “I want your fingers please. I can’t—”

“You can,” he says, way too calm. “You’re gonna. Not done with you yet.”

He slides one hand down between your thighs, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, slow and unhurried. You feel the first press of his fingertip at your entrance and it’s over.

When he finally pushes in just one thick finger, your mouth drops open in a silent gasp. It feels so good, too good.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he notes more to himself than to you. “Fuck. Gripping already.”

He curls his finger and you practically wail. You slap a hand over your mouth but he sees it, and then lowers his mouth back down to your clit like he’s starving for it.

His tongue and his finger move in tandem. Circles and pressure and heat all at once, building you up, pushing you higher, dragging desperate sounds out of you that you’ve never made before.

“Jungkook, fuck, please,” you sob, grabbing at his hair. “Please, I need—”

“You need what?” he murmurs against you, adding a second finger slowly, the stretch perfect, his mouth never leaving your clit.

“I need, need to cum, please—”

“Nah,” he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours as his fingers start to fuck into you even deeper, “Not yet.”

You’re near tears at this point.

He flattens his tongue and moans into you, and your hips jerk off the couch. Your hands are clutching at him now, your stomach tightening, thighs trembling around his head as he talks you through it.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he exhales, eyes locked on your face. “All needy and loud. Fuck, baby. I could eat you all day.”

You’re so close it hurts. He can feel it, the way your walls clench around his fingers, sucking him in.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, voice hoarse against you. “Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me.”

And you do, embarrassingly hard. It crashes over you like a power surge, hot and fast and blinding. Your hips jerk, your mouth drops open in a silent cry, and you’re cumming so hard you forget your own name.

He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, until your legs are shaking uncontrollably and you’re pushing at his shoulder with a broken gasp.

Still, he doesn’t let up. His tongue is relentless, fingers even more ruthless. You’re sweating, teary-eyed and so close you’re practically vibrating, when you finally snap.

“Jungkook,” you moan, throat raw. “I need you to fuck me. Please. I can’t—“

That gets him to cease. He pulls back, mouth soaked, lip ring gleaming. His hand lingers between your thighs for a second longer before he pushes himself up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, panting.

You reach up, fingers clutching the front of his shirt, dragging him down so you can kiss him. You taste yourself on his tongue, and it just makes it worse, makes you needier.

He stands up, stripping down as fast as humanly possible. The black tee comes off first, revealing a chest that’s all muscle, abs that flex when he tosses the shirt aside. Then the cargo pants get shoved down, and…

Holy fucking shit.

It swings free and heavy into his palm, and you gasp.

That’s what they meant by blue collar dick. Thick, veiny, the prettiest goddamn cock you’ve ever seen. Long, curved just right, flushed and leaking at the tip as he wraps his hand around the base and starts stroking himself, slow and lazy.

He tilts his head back with a low groan, lashes fluttering, chain swinging over his chest and you just stare.

You’ve seen good dick before. You’ve had great dick, even. This is different. This is the kind of dick that installs central air and breaks bed frames. The kind that fucks through creaky floorboards, says “good girl” like a prophet, and pays in cash everywhere.

“Yeah?” he rasps, still jerking himself slowly, eyes dark as he looks down at you. “You want it, baby?”

You nod like your life depends on it. “Please. Need it so bad.”

He doesn’t waste another second. “Turn over,” he says, voice commanding. “Face down, ass up. I want that spine arched.”

You scramble to obey, flipping onto your stomach, shoving your hoodie up out of the way. You bury your face in the couch cushion, arms stretched forward, hips high in the air and the sound Jungkook makes behind you is inhuman.

“Fucking hell,” he licks his lips, hands gripping your hips, thumbs spreading you open. “Look at you.”

You feel him line up behind you, thick head sliding through your slick folds, teasing but not pushing in yet, and your whole body twitches.

“You’re perfect like this,” he says, one hand sliding up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades until your arch deepens. “Back all pretty, ass in the air, soaked for me. Fuck, baby.”

He leans forward, voice rasping hot in your ear. “You gonna take it for me like this, yeah? Gonna let me fuck you nice and deep?”

You moan out, whimpering into the pillow. “Yes. Yes, please.”

“Atta girl.”

He pushes in slow, allowing you to feel every inch. You feel the thick, burning stretch of him as he sinks in deeper, splitting you open around his cock. Your breath catches on a whimper, eyes rolling back as he fills you.

“Fuuuuck,” you choke out, voice strangled. “You’re so big.”

Behind you, Jungkook lets out a guttural groan.

“Yeah?” he rasps, still sliding in, forcing your walls to open around him. “That too much for you, baby?”

You shake your head, barely able to breathe, cheek pressed into the cushion. “No, no, it’s so good, just, fuck—”

He bottoms out, hips flush against your ass, and you swear you see stars. You’re so full it’s almost unbearable, like he’s in your stomach, You’ve never felt anything like it; your walls clenching, dripping, pulsing and he’s barely even moved yet.

He pulls out halfway and slams back in, then does it again… and again… and again.

His pace is brutal, deep, pounding thrusts that send shockwaves through your spine and bounce off the walls. Skin slapping, the obscene wet squelch of your cunt sucking him in over and over, the couch creaking beneath you. You’re a full mess under him, and he’s moaning now too.

“Fuck,”Jungkook growls behind you, breath ragged. “You hear that? You hear how wet you are for me?”

You do. The sound of your pussy squelching around his cock is loud, echoing with every thrust as your juices coat his length and drip down your thighs onto the couch cushions below.

“Fucking soaked,” he growls again, hips snapping into you.

His hand finds your hair, grabbing a fistful at the base of your neck and pulling. Your head lifts from the pillow you grabbed from nearby in a panic, back arched to its limit, body bent like a bowstring as he fucks into you harder now that he has you right where he wants you.

“Taking it so good, baby,” he pants, yanking your head back just enough to make you moan. He keeps pounding into you, dragging that cock so deep it feels like he’s carving himself into your soul, keeping your head held high by your hair, whispering filth that makes your legs shake.

“You wanna cum, don’t you?” he growls, tone thick and mean. “Wanna fall apart right here on my cock?”

You’re shaking too hard to answer, all that’s coming out are some babbles you nor him have any energy to interpret. Somehow, your brain flashes back to that fucking TikTok. That girl that described “blue collar dick” like it was some natural disaster.

Now you’re living it.

You’re bent over on your own couch, spine arched, tears in your eyes, unable to even think as Jungkook wrecks you with his cock and whispers filthy praise in your ear like it’s his job. This is blue collar dick. This is the goddamn thesis statement of that TikTok. You’re going to send that girl flowers.

“Please,” you cry, “Please, Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” he pants, breath hot against your neck as his fingers reach down and work your clit cruelly enough to keep you from tipping over. “That desperate for it, sweetheart?”

You nod, choking out sobs, your body twitching around him, clenching hard enough that he starts to fall apart.

“Fuck,” he groans, cock twitching inside you. “You’re so tight. Keep squeezing me like that and I’m gonna cum before you do.”

You moan loud into the pillow, your whole body wrecked and burning, still locked in this purgatory he’s created, his cock fucking you deep and hard, his fingers rolling over your clit with precision, holding you right there.

“Say it,” he growls, “Tell me how bad you need it.”

“I need it, please, I need it so bad. I can’t, I’m so close, please let me cum.” Your self -control has exited the apartment.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he grits out behind you, “Fuck, baby, feel how tight you are? How bad your pussy wants to cum for me?”

You can’t answer. You’re drooling into the pillow, gasping, your body jerking with every thrust like you’re being electrocuted.

“Let go,” he groans, voice shaking. “You’re gonna cum for me now, yeah? Go on, baby. Fucking cum.”

The second his thumb presses tightly just right against your clit, you shatter. It hits you like a wave. Your body locks up, thighs clenching, back arching so hard it lifts your hips even higher as your orgasm rips through you, hot and overwhelming. You scream as your pussy clenches around his cock, pulsing and gushing as you cum so hard your vision goes white.

Your arms give out completely. You collapse forward onto the couch with a breathless sob, ass still arched up as your cunt throbs around him, wetness dripping down your thighs in sticky trails. Your face is buried in the cushion, your legs are trembling.

“Oh my fuck,” Jungkook groans, “Just like that. You feel that, baby? Feel how good it is when you cum on me?”

He curses, pulls out fast and you let out a weak little cry at the loss, at the ache he leaves behind.

But then he’s jerking himself over you, his hand wrapped tight around his cock, wrist snapping fast, hips stuttering as he pants over you, chasing his own high.

His head tilts back, bottom lip tucked under his top teeth. A deep, broken moan is ripped straight from his chest as his hips twitch forward and he spills across the curve of your ass in thick, hot ropes. His chain swings with the motion, clinking gently as he fucks his fist through it, painting your skin in messy, perfect streaks.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he groans, his eyes squeezed shut. “You’re… fuck, baby. You’re unreal.”

You’re too far gone to speak.

You stay face-down on the couch for a full minute post-impact, naked and glazed like a donut.

Jungkook exhales somewhere behind you, like he too is processing the life-altering events that just occurred in your living room. You hear his body move as he leans back, chest rising and falling, the distinct sound of a man who just came so hard he forgot his social security number.

There’s cum on your ass. Your hair’s stuck to your cheek. The throw pillow has a bite mark in it. You are not well.

You finally lift your head a fraction of an inch. “I think I just met God.”

Jungkook lets out a soft, post-nut laugh. “Yeah?” he rasps. “Tell him I said hi.”

You look over at him from where you’re sprawled out on the couch, now on your stomach. “…So do I owe you money, or…?”

He snorts. “For what?”

“For fixing my power?” You say it like it’s obvious.. which it should be.

Jungkook leans over and smacks your ass, casual, affectionate. “Nah. This one’s on the house.”

Eventually, he helps you sit up, grabbing the nearest clean towel in your bathroom like this is all completely normal. You look at each other and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry or call your landlord and thank him for being so aggressively useless.

You’ll deal with that later.

Right now, you accept the towel, take a shaky breath. You blink at him, dazed, legs still jelly. “So if I break something else… just a hypothetical, should i call you..?”

He smirks, tugs his pants back up without bothering to button them, and says, “Depends. If you break something else, I expect a personal invitation. No middleman this time.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

[httpdwaekki]

fixation | l.f.

summary: you and felix get high before tensions start to rise and who are you to deny your favorite sunshine.

wc: 2.2k

warnings: MDNI 18+ ONLY (minors and ageless blogs WILL be blocked), both felix n the reader are high, smut, nipple play, clit licking/sucking, switch (both), fingering, ddlg (if you really squint), felix calls the reader mama (it felt right in the moment idk how i'm feeling about it), probably more read at your own risk.

a/n: inspired by @felixknow ‘s hannie’s🍒 fixation fic. idk how i’m feeling about this one chat, but i’m kinda obsessed with it at the same time. i hope you all enjoy, remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3.

hannie’s vers. | my library

please consider donating to this fundraiser!

(images are not mine! credit to owners!)

felix was known for his love of physical touch.

you literally could not find him not touching someone in some sort of way. so much so that you give him the unoriginal title of ‘cuddle bug.’ now this was also true tenfold when he was high.

anytime you got high with him, he’d always somehow find himself on top of you, and 9 times out of 10, with his head on your boobs.

you both were sat  on your bed, a couple of hits deep, when he feels the need to touch you. you were propped up on some pillows on your side, face smushed into a random plushie as you were invested in whatever youtube video was on your phone.

he makes his way over to you from the other side of the bed. he inserts himself in the little space between you and your phone cause you to lean back.

he pushes you fully in your back, before flooping down onto you, his head on your tits. you thought nothing of it, you going back to your video, felix mindless scrolling on twitter. 

a few minutes go by before felix lets out a laugh. he turns his phone to you, showing you something he found scrolling. “this is me.” what was it? literally just a picture of tits, a meme of spongebob smiling big and the caption ‘me when boob’.

“no shot you’re looking at other boobs while laying on mine” you tease. he sits up to defend himself but you won’t here it “foul! foul i’ll tell you! are mine not good enough for you?” 

you were enjoying this too much, felix’s freckled face was red the more flustered he got. “no no! i love your boobs! they’re the best!” you kept egging him, finding it cute as he tried to defend himself.

“suuure they are, i’m sure you tell all the girls that.” unbeknownst to you, you struck a cord. you had forgotten how sensitive the precious sunshine became when he was inebriated.

“no, that’s not true.” he mumbled, causing you to sit up. “hey hey, lix, i’m joking bug, i’m sorry.” you rub his thigh, hoping to soothe him.

he looks over at you with a pout. “don’t do that.” he playfully hits you, pulling a giggle from you. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry.” you squeal, as he toss both your phones away before he throws more playful hits your way.

you throw yourself back, attempting to protect yourself from his attacks. eventually he halts his attacks, finding himself straddling your hips, leaning over you, both of you breathing slightly heavier. you both feel something shift, the tension becoming thicker . 

“you know, i think i deserve something special for you being mean.” your mind hazy not just from the weed but now felix’s presence over you.

“what do you have in mind?” you ask softly. not breaking eye contact, he brings one hand up to cover your clothed tit, giving it a light squeeze. “i think you should let me show you how much love them.” his deep voice sending shockwaves through your system. 

you give him a soft nod, keeping your eyes on his. you had taken your bra off almost as soon as both of you had entered your apartment, you hated the way the underwire felt, especially when he laid on them. 

so you could feel every agonizing movement he made, brushing your senstive bud each time. you watch as he brings himself down, making himself eye level with the now hardened bud.

he brushes his thumb over it, revealing it through the fabric. he takes the bud in his mouth over your shirt, keeping eye contact with you, catching every glimpse of your face he can get.

he alternates between sucking it and flicking his tongue around it. he brings his hand to your other tit, making that peak hard on contact.

the combined stimulation, caused you to let out a soft moan. he pulls away from you, causing a whine to leave you.

“does that feel good mama?” you nod your head, brain too fuzzy to form words. you were sure it was the weed but something about your mind already hazy made this feel that much better.

he places a kiss to the wet peak before reaching down, and pulling at the hem of your shirt, “lean up for me.” he taps the side of your boobs with his free hand. you knew deep down he only did that to see you tit jiggle a bit.

he pulls the shirt off as you lean forward, tossing it somewhere in the room. he kisses the nipple he has had been sucking for the past minute or so before moving to the other one.

he places a kiss to it once again before taking it in his mouth fully. you let out a breathy moan, finally feel his mouth on you. he lets out a moan, sucking the hardened bud happily. you felt like you were on cloud 9, you wrapped your arms around him, one around his shoulder the other in his hair.

he grazed your nipple with his teeth causing you to let out a squeak. “lix please.” you begged, your thighs pressing together. “what’s wrong, hm? you feeling needy.” you pout at his words nodding your head again.

“don’t worry mama, i got you.” he smiles, before taking your nipple between his teeth once more.

you let out a whimper, his voice and actions taking over your senses completely. your hands fisting his soft locks as he continues his work. “lix please.” 

he ignores your pleas, simply too invested in softly sucking your chest. he becomes dazed, cheek pressing against your soft flesh as he relaxes into you. “god, you’re fucking perfect.” he says releasing your nipple for a moment.

he gives it a soft blow before giving it one last lick and kiss before moving to the other side once more.

he melts into you once again, his cheek pressed to you as he lazily sucks. he had his hand playing with your other boob, pulling yet another whine from you.

“baby boy,” you moan, head falling back at the stimulation. “as pretty as you look with my nipple in your mouth i need something more.” he pulls back, pout evident on his freckled face.

“but they feel so nice to play with.” his hands still pawing at them, rolling your nipples between his fingers. you grab his hands, intertwining your fingers. “i know baby but i think i’m gonna go insane if you don’t do something else in the next 10 seconds.” 

his cheeks flush before you pull him down to you. you capture his lips in a feverish kiss, taking one of your hands to card through his soft strands. he moans into your mouth as you gently tug at them, scratching his scalp softly.

his free hand makes its way to the side of your breast, playing with it once more. “have i just unlocked an obsession for my boobs in you.” you ask, pulling away from him, breathing heavy.

he gives you a confused look, “what do you mean just unlocked? i have my face in your tits half the time for a reason.” he says like it’s obvious.

you let out a giggle as he leans down, placing kisses on your jaw before making his way down. he stops at your boobs once again. “felix i swear to god i won’t let you play on them again.” you threaten, cause him to shoot up.

“that seems a bit drastic no?” you roll your eyes, “i don’t care, please.” you whine, feeling yourself going insane at the lack of stimulation. “okay, okay, i’m sorry.” he places one last kiss to each nipple before making his way down.

he trails a bunch of kisses across your soft tummy, one to each hip bone before pulling down your shorts. “fuck angel,” he breathes as he spreads your legs, staring at the wet patch on your light blue panties.

he places a kiss to it before rubbing small circles with his thumb. “ah.” you moan, at the slight stimulation. “lixie, please.” your mind is so far gone and he’s barely touched you. between him and the weed, it was fucking intoxicating.

“i know baby, i know,” he reassures, his voice dropping an octave or two. he’s rubbing smalls circles to your clothed clit, mesmerized by the growing wet patch darken the fabric.

“all this because of me?” he asks, looking back to you. you nod, pout present on your lips, “all you lixie.” you mumbled. he places once last kiss to the wet patch before removing those as well.

“look at this pretty pussy hm?” he spreads your lips apart, eyes sparkling as he takes in the sight of your glistening cunt.

he licks a long stripe from your wet entrance up to your bundle of nerves. he latches onto it, giving it a harsh suck. “ah! fuck.” you moan, back arching as you reach for the closest thing for you to hold, which happened to be a stuffie.

you stuff your face in its tummy and felix expertly plays with your swollen clit. you turn your head to the side moaning into the soft toy and he slips a finger in.

he pulls away, but his finger keeps thrusting into you. “no, no, my sweet girl, let me hear you baby.” his free hand rubbing your inner thigh, as he places kisses all around your clit.

“ lixie,” you cry, turning to look at him while tucking the plushie into your chest. “i know mama, am i making you feel good?” he asks between kisses.

“yes, yes, it feels so good, more please.” you beg, you needed more, you needed your senses completely overwhelmed by him.

he adds a second finger before completely taking your clit in his mouth once more. “ah,” you cry, back arching at the added stimulation. “lixie please, don’t stop.” 

the weed in your system was making everything feel euphoric. he takes the hand that was rubbing soothing circles to your thigh to spread you out, giving him easier access to your pretty clit.

you moan, your hand coming up to squeeze your tit, finger brushing your peaked bud.

“look at you,” he pauses for a moment to flick your clit once more. “so gorgeous for me,” he gives the bundle a suck before grazing his teeth against the nerves, pulling a high pitched moan from you.

“sounding so pretty for me hm?” he speeds up his fingers, curling them into that gummy spot, sending you into a state of pure bliss. “ah!” you scream, breathing heavy, head thrown back.

“fe-felix, p-please, i’m gonna c-cum.” you manage to stutter, your senses fully overtaken by him. “yeah? my pretty girl gonna cum?” he slips a third finger in, causing your eyes to roll back into you head.

“yes, yes, please, li-lixie, i can’t-“ you cut yourself off with a moan, it was feeling almost too good but you needed your release more than air in that moment.

he ignores your comment. “my baby playing with her pretty tits for me,” he blows on your clit, causing you to squeeze and brush your sensitive nipple. “play with your nipple for me baby.” you follow what he says, letting out a pornographic moan.

“felix p-please.” you cry, tears collecting in your eyes as the coil in your tummy becomes tighter and tighter. “come on angel, show me how good i’m making you feel.”

his fingers become impossibly faster, his mouth attached to your clit, sucking it into his mouth while his tongue flicks it.

you scream at the stimulation, your hips rocking against his face, chasing your release. plushie in a death grip to your chest and you roll your nipple between your fingers.

“felix!” you moan as the coil snaps, feeling everything and nothing at the same time. he works you through your high, slowing his fingers but not stopping them.

your clit still in his mouth as he overstimulates you. your body convulses as the shockwaves run through you. “l-lix please, it’s too m-much.” you whimper, body shaking hiding your face once again. 

his stills his fingers, pulling his mouth off you to give your clit a few loving kisses. “so pretty for me angel.” he whispers between kisses. 

“l-lixie.” you call out to him, needing to feel him pressed against you. he looks up at you, making grabby hands to him making him smile.

he carefully pulls his digits out, pulling a whimper from you in the process. he gives your clit a few more kisses, causing your legs to shake involuntarily.

he makes his way up, kissing your tummy and of course, each nipple and even giving one a cheeky suck. 

once he makes his way up you, laying on top of you, plushie squished between you, wrapping your legs and arms around him, pulling him close. he giggles at your cuteness before giving you a loving kiss.

“i love you mama.” he mumbles into the kiss. you smile against him, “i love you more lix.” you pull him tighter to you, both of you falling in a quick, peaceful slumber.

(and yes he does wake you up later, mouth attached to your nipple once again.)

do not repost

p.s. my taglist is open if you would like to be added! just send me an ask <3

[winwintea]

how dreamies would react to bailing you out of jail

PAIRING ▸ dreamies x reader 

TAGS ▸ none, except jail and chenle being rude at first, and oh karen renjun

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i have never been arrested, i am a lawfully abiding citizen. have a nice day. i am perfectly normal and sane.

Mark Lee

Mark has never had to deal with the legal system before, so when he receives the phone-call from you, he’s really confused. “You’re… where?” He makes you repeat yourself and how you got in the situation. “What do you mean you can… ‘bail’ yourself out? Don’t you… have to be tried, like in front of a jury?” You have to explain to Mark how bails work, and eventually he begins to understand. “Don’t worry y/n… I’ll get you out, give me a second.” You can hear him leaving his room and running out, “CHENLE ?? CHENLE !! I NEED SOME CASH.” 

Huang Renjun

Renjun is a little annoyed at first when he realizes that it’s the police station calling him and it involves you. “Well, what’d they do?” He asks, carefully, and as he listens to what the officers say, and his temper slowly starts to rise. “And you put them in jail for that?” He’s pissed off now. Not only was his day interrupted, but you got arrested for such a stupid reason. There was absolutely no reason why he needed to be involved either, so if they wanted him involved he would get involved. “You will be hearing from my lawyers…”

Lee Jeno

Jeno, like Mark, would be extremely confused on what exactly was going on. While he listened to you rant about what happened, and how you got put in jail, one thing would be on his mind: Were you a criminal now? He’s still technically trying to process everything that’s going on, nodding and expressing some “Uh-huh”s here and there to let him know you were listening, but his eyes are wide with concern. He really didn’t want you to become a criminal and agreed to buy your bail. (poor jeno)  

Lee Donghyuck

Haechan cannot remain serious for once. He immediately lets out a giant laugh as soon as he hears what happened, “Yo, can you send me the mugshot? I might make some memes with it.” Obviously you aren’t too happy with this at all, and promptly hang up the call, stating that you were going to call someone else. 5 seconds later though, Haechan calls back, apologizing profusely, “SORRY. SORRY. I’LL PAY, I’LL PAY, SORRY”

Na Jaemin

Jaemin is both disappointed in you, but still worried for your wellbeing, so obviously he agrees to come bail you out, “Are you okay? I’m coming… to pick you up, don’t be scared.” When he arrives at the cell, he immediately scolds you, which he deems as appropriate payment for him having to drive over and rescue you. However, Jaemin will absolutely defend you all the way. Once he pays the bail bondsman, he then turns his attention to the officers, “Look at that face officer! Does that look like the face of a criminal to you?” It’s not until you beg him to leave that he finally gives up arguing with them. 

Zhong Chenle

Chenle does not want to help you at all, “I don’t have time sorry.” (okay rude) But Chenle’s biggest mistake was calling you on facetime. You started crying and rambling about how your life was over, and how you were going to get sentenced to jail time, and this did the trick. “Okay. Fine FINE. I’M GOING.” He ends up paying a hefty sum to get your name cleared from the records and so there will be no trial for you! He doesn’t even ask if you did it or not. This is lowkey illegal and corrupt, but Chenle just doesn’t want to see you upset, and who are you to complain?

Park Jisung

Jisung is somehow so calm about the situation? Like, hearing that you got arrested doesn’t even phase him, “Where you at, send me the location, I’ll pick you up.” You’re shocked too, because you expected him to be in panic mode, but he just comes, does the whole bail process like it’s nothing and takes you home. When you’re in the car with him you can’t help but ask why he was so resolute about the whole situation. Jisung just gives you a nonchalant look, “It’s not the first time I’ve done this. Don’t do it again though.” 

[cavegirlpoems]

So we all hate DnD, but I am kinda curious what are the actually bad ttrpgs?

I know that 3,5e and pf got bloated even more than 5e did, FATAL is a meme, but what else?

I think Chronicles of Darkness tell you the system's gonna be a sleek, streamlined narrative system and then immediately bukakke's pointless fiddly complexity all over everything, to an extent that I never see most STs actually use half the subsystems (does anybody actually like the Doors mechanic?) but also you can utterly break the game if you combine the right merits and powers in a way that I really hope isn't intentional. WoD games all have slightly clunky, lame mechanics but at least in OWoD the mechanics take an extremely simulationist approach of simply modeling the fiction, balance be damned; CoD throws out the simulationism in favour of abstraction and narrativism, but perversely only makes the mechanics more complex, and deploys more weird dice tricks so eyeballing probabilities gets much harder. Everything is fiddly, everything has specific exceptions, and everything good is gated behind weird prerequisites and builds as if the devs thought they were making pathfinder. If you're some sort of weirdo who actually prefers the CoD settings, run them using OWoD mechanics for the love of god.

Shadowrun 6e's character generation is so complex that people have created third party apps that are basically mandatory in order to wrangle it into shape. It's notoriously complex in play with basically every action requiring multiple steps of calculation, to the extent that 'you need to do calculus if you set off a grenade next to a wall' is a meme; when I played we simply never used grenades because we were all to scared of trying to make sense of the mechanics. However, in play a slightly minmaxed mage can make every other party member obsolete by simply summoning an extremely powerful spirit to solve every task. I hated every minute of it.

Pokemon Tabletop Adventures uses d20-based mechanics for trainers, where you roll a d20 vs armour class to hit, and then roll some damage. It also recreates the mechanics of the pokemon video games largely verbatim. Its expected that trainers and pokemon can and will interact despite using totally different systems, and trainers can even learn pokemon moves. Some classes are good at things like 'capturing and training pokemons' while others are good at 'fighting pokemons themselves with martial arts' or 'winning contests' or 'being a film noir detective', but you only get XP or mechanical support for the first ones. Some classes get abilities like 'perfect mind-control, no save' while others get abilities like 'you're better at growing berries'. You are expected to calculate the stats of every pokemon individually, from scratch, for every encounter. Encounters typically feature 5-10 wild pokemons often of multiple species and levels, alongside 3-5 player characters and up to six pokemons per PC. Its a fractal spreadsheet nightmare. Unlike shadowrun, the app to make this insanity playable doesn't exist. Good god. Send help.

On the other end of the spectrum from stupid fiddly crunch, Ten Candles is responsible for the single most miserable ttrpg experience of my life. It claims to be a narrative game which gives players the ability to define the fiction as they go, but fails at this because the GM has secret knowledge that other players aren't privy to, meaning that it invites players to be creatively vulnerable when they have narrative authority, with a chance that they might get their contributions unilaterally overruled due to information they had no way of knowing. Since the game ends with everybody dying automatically, the game inherently leans on the GM to railroad in what's meant to be a colaberative narrative experience. And finally, on a purely practical level, the clever conciet of playing by candlelight and extinguishing candles as the game progresses means that by half-way in you can't read your fucking character sheets or dice, which is less spooky and more irritating. God I hate ten candles.

[katakaluptastrophy]

Your children are weapons for the director's cut meme?

Ooh, thank you for the ask!

Your Children Are Weapons, TLT, 3k

What does it mean to be a family when your family is an ongoing act of imperial violence? What does it mean to love when most of the choices you can make have already been made for you?

Sometimes the horrors of love are a pair of child soldiers being raised by the people annexing their House, and the realisation that questioning everything is not enough to save your family from a system bigger than you.

This fic started off as a Tumblr post that I'd intended to be a short musing on the Fourth House teens, and rather got away from me... (hence the slightly odd second person narration - it was never intended to be a long form piece!)

The fandom so often reduces the relationship between the Fourth and the Fifth to a sort of saccharine tropey family, but the reality seems to be so much more complicated than that. Given the feudal world of the Houses, I fear the relationship is rather less 'nice foster carers' or 'adopted by your favourite teachers' and rather more Game of Thrones style hostage-wards. The fact that they all clearly love each other a great deal doesn't undo the complexity of how they came to be where they are and the tensions inherent in the relationships they're trying to navigate:

You are cavalier primary of the Fourth House and you fear you are still being propped up on cushions.

The first chapter tries to explore this from the Fourth's perspective: that they're sent away from their homes and surviving family, that they're brought up in a place that enjoys freedoms and comforts unknown to the Fourth, and their growing realisation that their lives will forever be overshadowed:

You will all serve the empire together. Perhaps, when you are the fingers and gestures of god, none of these differences will matter any more.

Chapter 2 follows the same trajectory, but for Abigail, and just what the weight of being the scion of Koniortos Court might mean:

You grow up in a world of manners and rubrics carefully tamped atop screaming feral horrors and the madness of the dead.

A lot of the comments on this chapter are people yelling at me for this line, which also inspired @brightchrysaor's excellent Of Such Banality (which makes it Worse):

You have miscarriages. As a necromancer, you can feel the little spark of thalergy ignite and then extinguish.

This came out of a reflection on my own experience of the physical effects of early pregnancy, and wondering how that experience would be different if you were able to sense thalergy and thanergy...

On a lighter note, I really enjoyed trying to flesh out the way Abigail tries to navigate some of the tensions in her life:

you are a historian, and a lover of curiosities, and very stubborn when you want to be. In accordance with ancient Fifth custom, you make your husband your cavalier. You frame both the disappointed letter from the Master Templar and one of the more pornographic political cartoons in a dark corner of your study.

Your children aren't yours. They are the Fourth's. They are your mother's expansion project. They are weapons in the hand of the emperor.

[javishifts]

25 Days of Shiftmas! MHA DR ｡𖦹°‧

⌗ 𝟗. snowflakes ; What are some headcannons you have about people in your dr?

I have soooooo many for everyone but I'll cut them down to the ones I interact with the most

Izuku

broski can fall asleep ANYWHERE. We found him face-down snoozing on the coffee table thing in the common room

can't lie to save his life

loves dinosaurs; me and him bond over it (my favourite is a deinonychus, look it up)

swears he isn't judgemental but gives the nastiest side eyes ever

on edge at all times. I walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder to ask him something and he quite literally jumped out of his own skin and almost used air force on me. Bless his heart

biggest back in the class

Bisexual critter

Katsuki

loves kicking the back of people's knees

very clingy when he's tired

his mom is one of those who signed their kid up for everything so he has a bunch of random talents

Massive Kendrick Lamar fan; Mina complains about his 'spitting bars' all the time

loves anything outdoorsy (I think we all knew this)

occasionally uses me as an armrest; I'm like 3 inches shorter than him but he still does it

his mom posted a picture on Facebook of him as a baby wearing a bear onesie and it was actually the cutest thing ever; Denki would not let him hear the end of it for 2 months straight

Pansexual; bro likes what he likes what can I say

"I'd rather shove my fingers up my nose and nuke my brain so you idiots have to watch it all ooze out" - his response when Mina wanted to do his makeup

Shoto

has a bit of 'tism i think

says 'no shit' a lot

has very deadpan humor

sometimes we train together; He makes ice spikes shoot up from the ground or blasts fire in my direction while I use my wind to avoid them or use it against him. He finds it funny when I lose my footing and slide down on his ice while I'm fighting for my life not to get impaled

we text back and forth the most random things in the middle of the night it's actually so funny

My nose just started bleeding I know I did that Telepathically How dare you

there's this one picture of me and him looking at someone with a disgusted face during our work studies that Izuku took and the class used it as a meme for weeks it was hilarious

Straight but was fully convinced he was gay once for no particular reason

silliest

Ochaco

unhealthy obsession with cinnaroll from sanrio; Momo bought her a huge plushy of it for her birthday and she cried

does little excited hops

her love language is physical touch; we were riding on the bus to the training camp together and she dozed off on my shoulder and it became my life's purpose to stay as still as possible

we're both huge space geeks; I got her a solar system model for her dorm and she got me a NASA tapestry

Is kinda chubby but she's got the craziest sleeper build

Bisexual

Momo

always, and I mean ALWAYS, has her nails done with french tips; material girl fr

literally the sweetest soul ever

we always have spa nights in her room because she has a massive stash of face masks and skincare products

devious at times; once snuck up behind me and started strangling me WITH MY OWN BRAID. I was talking to Sero and Kiri when she did it and they started laughing their asses off and rolling around on the floor

her wardrobe consists of designer brands

uses 'oh!' as a reaction a lot like that one tiktok audio

I have this habit of poking people in the side right below their ribs cuz it's fun; I've done this to Momo so many times to the point where she keeps her arms glued to her sides at all times around me

She gets so worried and insecure for no reason; Her and Shoto were in a talking stage for a while and ended up setting up a little coffee date and she would keep asking me what clothes or perfume she should wear and how to do her hair like girly just calm down you're perfect 😭

Straight; never really put much thought into it

Hanta

we make dance tiktoks together

we had a Minecraft server for a while until he killed my dog and blew up my house. I didn't talk to him for two days until he apologized by buying me a keychain that looks like Runo (my actual dog)

loves wearing beanies; has a whole collection of them

has one of those wheezing laughs

thinks saying 'I'm gonna touch you' with no warning whatsoever is the funniest thing in the world. I laughed a total of two times mostly because it was so out of context

Tugged on my braid really hard during training once and almost made me fall back; I chased him and strangled him with it

actually crazy at Mario kart

we were taking turns insulting each other for no reason at all and I called him a power ranger from temu because of his costume and let me tell you, his face dropped so fast and he turned around and walked away. I laughed SO hard at him bro everyone in the common room at the time was concerned for my life because I was coughing so much after

We were making a tiktok when some of us were training in gym gamma and you can just see Izuku and Kats just beating the shit out of each other in the background; it got over a million likes and people used it as a meme for the longest time

will randomly tape peoples mouth shut when they're talking; his current fave to do this to is Monoma and he gets so pissed LMAO

These aren't really headcanons I know but I treated it as if I've shifted and experienced these things firsthand

[eccentricgrace]

silly texts || peter parker

summary: as you could guess. a compilation of silly texts between peter and co.

tags: humor, fluff, memes, texting fic

wc: 1,686

cross-posted on wattpad under the same name!

fos crew

arachkid: dude i cannot keep swinging past madison square garden

arachkid: i don't even know how it's possible but they keep thinking i'm not real and now i have an ice-cream stain on my suit

Nedward: DID THEY THROW ICECREAM AT YOU

Nedward: LMFAOOOOOOO

arachkid: i just don't understand how would i be a fake

arachkid: i am literally IN THE AIR

em jay: average new yorker versus common sense

Nedward: If only they could see your glorious muscles from the ground

Nedward: then there would be no doubt

arachkid: i'm so tired 😭

em jay: are you coming to class tmrw peter

arachkid: yeah! why

em jay: think about it

arachkid: thinking

need leds

peper partker: help

need leds: Tomorrow is decathlon lol

fos crew

arachkid: yes im coming to decathlon

em jay: Ned.

Nedward: he ASKED

em jay: i'm putting you both next to flash

em jay: table for people with no backbone

arachkid: ☹️

Nedward: Booo! Flash is gonna make me answer his quiz questions if you sit me next to him

arachkid: what's the quiz on

Nedward: history

arachkid: he's asking you for history???

em jay: may his grades rest in peace

Nedward: [attached image]

em jay: lol

arachkid: ohs hit got to go i hear distress

Nedward: "i hear distress" bro thinks he's an avenger

em jay: honorary avenger

Nedward: Dont get shot again tho pete thanks for keeping our city safe n all that 🫡

em jay: the fact that you have to say "again"

Nedward: HES JUST

Nedward: I THOUGHT HE COULD DUCK BULLETS AND STUFF

Nedward: THE LITERAL BLOOD STAINS ON MY CARPET SAYS OTHERWISE

em jay: skill issue just clean blood better

Nedward: you say that like you just KNOW how to clean blood. like that's a normal thing

em jay: think about it

Nedward: Thinking

Nedward: shit nvm I cant even ask Peter for backup bc he's on patrol

Nedward: I'm just gonna go with the cool mysterious idea that you're up to some shady business and I'm not going to ask questions about it

em jay: [attached image]

em jay: ok i KNOW you took a health class

em jay: the american education system is terrible but don't let me down like this

Nedward: OHHHH

Nedward: the monthly witch's sacrament

em jay: everyday i ask god why i'm friends with you two and everyday she refuses to answer me

arachkid: i was gone for five seconds hwhat

em jay: welcome back public enemy no1 what was the distress

arachkid: ok i'm gomna choose not to read into what you just called me there

arachkid: anyways hotdog guy arguing w the slushy guy again

Nedward: AINT NO WAY

em jay: ???again?????

Nedward: MJ DO YOU NOTCKNOW ABOUT THE SLUSHY HOTDOG FEUD

em jay: wtf are you talking about

em jay: wait is this what you meant when you told me the other day to not buy hotdogs off 3rd ave

arachkid: no that's different

Nedward: Wait What's wrong w the hotdog stand on 3rd

arachkid: i've had to talk to him like three times on patrol to stop creeping on girls that r walking by

em jay: gross. what's his ip

em jay: ned

Nedward: Are you trying to get me to use my powers for evil

em jay: does this look like evil-doing to you

Nedward: .

Nedward: Give me one second

arachkid: no need

arachkid: Mr stark is already taking care of it

arachkid: so if he suddenly goes missing don't question it too much

em jay: won't need to question it at all if i get to him first

arachkid: terrifying!

Nedward: I love that it's not directed at us anymore though

em jay: ok but can we go back to the 'slushy dog' feud peter you still haven't answered what the hell that means

arachkid: oh yeah so basically on 71st st there's this slushy guy that keeps coming up with the most disgusting flavors i've ever imagined in my life

arachkid: last time i swung by this guy was doing pickle slushies or something like i can't make this stuff up

Nedward: [attached image]

Nedward: FOUL

Nedward: Didnt you say one time he had done toothpaste slushy

arachkid: yes.

em jay: hm

arachkid: so slushy guy is infamous in that part of the neighborhood basically

arachkid: but then there's HOTDOG GUY

Nedward: Hotdog guy MVP

arachkid: he's new i think?? but he strolled up and he's like, he's the most serious hot dog guy

arachkid: like ever, probably

em jay: can one be serious about hot dogs?

arachkid: this guy can. this guy can

arachkid: apparently he's from chicago so he's like, he makes chicago hot dogs ?? and he hates slushy guy. he literally. he hates slushy guy so much

arachkid: and slushy guy is so funny abt it bc he keeps setting up right next to him and asking him about whether he thinks mustard or ketchup slushies would be a hit and rhat they could be business partners

arachkid: i have had to break up a fight like every two weeks it's insane

em jay: enemies to lovers slow burn 500k word

Nedward: Whaf does that mean💀

em jay: you're unbelievable

arachkid: [attached image]

le artiste

sunshine incarnate: MJ

sunshine incarnate: MJ

sunshine incarnate: MJ

le artiste: what

le artiste: are u ok

le artiste: are you dying

sunshine incarnate: no

le artiste: no you're not ok or no you're not dying

sunshine incarnate: no i'm fine

sunshine incarnate: can you help me i'm doing lit homework

le artiste: sorry i can't read

sunshine incarnate: MJ PLEASE

sunshine incarnate: what are you doing

le artiste: rereading pride and prejudice

sunshine incarnate: thafs not the book we're doing the report on??

sunshine incarnate: wait shit is it

sunshine incarnate: do i have the wrong book

le artiste: no of course it's not you're not that stupid

le artiste: ... what book do you have though.

sunshine incarnate: photo of dorian grey

le artiste: ... picture

sunshine incarnate: hm?

le artiste: picture of dorian grey

sunshine incarnate: oh my bad

le artiste: either way. so sorry to tell you but

sunshine incarnate: no...

le artiste: you have the wrong book

le artiste: that's the one she assigned to the honors class

sunshine incarnate: aurghrhhh

sunshine incarnate: do you know which one do i need

le artiste: your period was assigned wuthering heights

le artiste: do you have a copy

sunshine incarnate: i'll look around, may might

le artiste: do you have patrol tonight?

sunshine incarnate: mmm nope i finished earlier why

le artiste: come on over, ill lend you my copy

sunshine incarnate: really!!!

le artiste: yeah

le artiste: get here in fifteen minutes and you won't miss mr darcy proposing

sunshine incarnate:

le artiste: bring your homework with you

le artiste: nerd

flash (not gordon)

flash (not gordon): PETER

penis parker: oh my god what

penis parker: why are you yelling

flash (not gordon): Caps lock

flash (not gordon): Didn't mean to

penis parker: what is it

flash (not gordon): Were presenting our phys thing tomorrow

penis parker: yeah i know??

flash (not gordon): Don't skip

penis parker: was not planning to

thee tony stark

thee tony stark: Get out of school free card.

thee tony stark: Trouble downtown, would be a good opportunity for some training. What say you?

spidey-kid: hes

spidey-kid: jges

spidey-kid: fhes

spidey-kid: tes

thee tony stark: Don't hurt yourself.

spidey-kid: yes

spidey-kid: gotta be back in school for fourth period though

thee tony stark: Sure.

spidey-kid: ok so do you want me to swing over there or do you have other plans

thee tony stark: I'm outside.

spidey-kid: oh! ok

spidey-kid: do i wear my suit outside?

thee tony stark: Not unless you want Martha down the hall knowing that you're Spider-Man.

spidey-kid: i don't live next to a martha??

spidey-kid: oh you were joking

thee tony stark: Get outside, kid.

spidey-kid: brt

flash (not gordon)

flash (not gordon): Peter

flash (not gordon): Where the hell are you

flash (not gordon): Peter we present third in the class

flash (not gordon): YOU SAID YOU WERENT SKIPPING YOU ASSHOLE

flash (not gordon): [attached image]

flash (not gordon): Second presenters are up Peter I swear to god

flash (not gordon): WHERE ARE YOU!!!!

flash (not gordon): 😡😡😡😡😡😡

flash (not gordon): PETER!!!!

penis parker: SrIRY IA AM RRNTING TO CLASF RIGHT NIW

flash (not gordon): You are the WORST

fos crew

em jay: we as a society need to make sure peter doesn't walk through the school doors without being thoroughly checked for evidence

Nedward: Ayo??

arachkid: i dont wanna talk about it

em jay: too bad! guess what i just watched this loser do

Nedward: What did he do💀💀

em jay: bro gave an entire presentation with flash and the whole time is mask is STICKING OUT OF HIS BACK POCKET

Nedward: PETER💀💀💀💀💀

em jay: from me trying to let him know that, his mask is sticking out of his pocket, to flash trying to subtly sneak over to help hide it from everyone else, to peter who won't shut up about magnetism

em jay: what a class. holy shit

Nedward: I wish I had physics with you guys my class was boring as hell

Nedward: Did flash actually succeed

em jay: i mean

em jay: ok so he got close enough to grab the mask but then peter must have bugged out or something bc he stopped talking very suddenly and was holding flash's arm

em jay: so the mask was just. sitting there. and of course both of them are now looking like fish out of water so i said a joke and had to deflect for them

Nedward: Michelle jones mvp where would we be without you

em jay: i dread to imagine it

arachkid: i have had a very long and hard day

Nedward: It's fine dude!! now you can just solo as our school's infamous spider-man cosplayer

em jay: gonna have to battle flash for the spidey no1 fan title

arachkid: everyone in this group chat is so mean to me

[zevdev]

Sonic ramble pt2

I'm going to continue where I left off but if you just want my thoughts on the 3rd movie look at the second paragraph

The game play is interesting...also there's a 97% completed save which means I don't have to work to hard to 100% this game! But gameplay it kinda just shoves you into the fire and ice mechanic of it. Which was kinda nice honestly I appreciate the lack of hand holding since it's really easy to use. The one annoying thing is that it seems like each character has their own button set up. I've only used Amy and Sonic but Amy has a double jump and no dash where as Sonic has only a single jump and his dash attack so it got a bit confusing. I'm not used to sonic games so I won't comment on the normal controls like sprint and stuff but I will say the controls seem pretty slippery and delayed. But thank the gods there's not a life system like mario games because the amount of game overs I would already have due to the slippery controls. With that said it's a decent game I mean it has it's Sonic boom charm with breaking the forth wall and not at the same time and the first boss fight was straight forward enough so it's looking good.

Okay I watched the 3rd movie finally and honestly it was really good. I enjoyed all the parts I can just assume are memes now also all the references. I did predict a lot which I mean I'm not mad since I'm getting into the games and it makes sense. But Shadow being Sega's mewtwo confirmed [aka a creature that was put into some sort of confinement and then breaks free due to rage] I will say it's funny how easily Shadow was like "yeah...I don't think Maria really wanted this" also the way one of the Robotnik died by just being zapped by the chaos energy was so anticlimactic but fitting. Also why is super Shadow pink!? Like everything else he's clearly yellow like sonic [minus the red stripes he keeps] but not in the movie he's pink. Also why is this Sonic so weak? I thought he and Shadow were supposed to be evenly matched I mean from everything I know they are except this movie. Sonic had to go super just to have a chance. Anyways can't wait for the 4th one [aka hoping Shadow is still alive]

[shitpostingkats]

Question, what's your opinion of KH Missing Link so far :0?

I've actually been meaning to reach out to my followers about that.

Short answer: I just haven't been keeping up with kh like I used to. I actually have no opinion on Missing Link, because I have not played it.

Long answer: I downloaded Dark Road the week it came out and actually poured a huge chunk of hours into it, even though the gameplay got boring and it took my phone half an afternoon to download. Eventually, I dropped off, because the release schedule of new story updates could not hold the attention of my little adhd brain, and I would forget the game existed entirely. However, when the whole story dropped, I found I adored the writing of Dark Road. One of the best written games in the series, and I will die on that hill.

The worst and greatest thing about the series is it follows what I call The Kingdom Hearts Hyperfixation Quality Curve

The more fun a kh game is to play, the less it sticks in my brain like a foongus. The platonic ideal of a kingdom hearts game is one that has a fleshed out game system that is like a stim toy to the Gamer Brain, while still having a batshit insane enough story that you can talk about it for upwards of 300 hours and still not exhaust things to say about the plot.

I kinda assumed ML would be a lot like dark road, in that the story, once finished, will make me want to eat drywall, but slow to update. So I put the kh hyperfixation on the backburner until I could dive back into it full force.

But tumblr kh mobile game community, my beloved. I have been seeing some very good memes and unhinged rambles and I was actually meaning to make a post asking for the wisdom of my good good kh mutuals.

Is Missing Link good? Should I play it? If I shouldn't play it, is there somewhere where I can get story updates as they release? Or is this game just flat out fun and if so, what are some tips for someone just trying to get into it?

Both advice and vague fandom screaming equally appreciated!

[thewitchoftherock]

Before I worked in retail at a lovely beauty shop, I worked at a call center.

Tech Support. For Comcast. It’s as bad as you think it was. Lemmie tell ya a story.

The year was 2011. I’m at the call centre, working away, doing my best and getting chewed out because I often helped people beyond what was required (driver issues and shit, instead of just following our LOQ. If you have someone who refuses to leave their script, they probably got written up for doing so just FYI. )

Anyway,

Buddy calls in, and right off the bat he comes in swinging. Rawr rawr rawr, my internet isn’t working, fix this now, you guys suck. like, dude, I don’t disagree with you, but I have literally no control over the company I’m a fuckin’ cog. Whatever. I go into his account to check his system/devices/account, and I see the modem is fully offline. That’s actually good, because it means it’ll be super easy to fix: either the damn thing is busted (needs a tech) or it’s out of power. So, I ask buddy to unplug the device from the outlet, wait a second, and plug it back in again. I didn’t ask this because I thought resetting it would fix it, I asked him to do this because peeps get pissy if you ask them if their stuff is plugged in.

Foreshadowing.

Anyway, he grumbles and complains, and does the thing. Nothing. OK. There’s one more thing I can check. I ask him if the modem is plugged into the wall, or a power bar.

“It’s plugged into a power bar.”

“Ah.” I say, “Ok. Can I get you to plug it directly into the wall?”

“Why the Fuck do I have to do that?”

Now, the answer we give is “well, that’s because sometimes the modem and the power bar don’t work well together, and it’s just easier to check it if it’s plugged into the wall.”

This is bullshit. The truth is that we don’t know where you got this power bar. We don’t know how old it is. We don’t know if you got this shit rigged up like the dad in “A Christmas Story” with three dozen things plugged into a set power bars all plugged in and twisted like some chthonic electro beast. I mean, sure, that SOUNDS hot, but it’s not useful when trying to do troubleshooting and figure out if your power bar sucks and is broken.

This guy *loses his shit* at me. Rawr rawr rawr, every time I call you got me running around doing all this shit, blah blah blah, No, I can’t unplug it, there’s no other outlets in the room.

Now I pause, the gears in my brain quickly clicking together. “There’s… no outlets in that room?”

“No, there’s not! Not any!”

Ok, well, ASIDE from that being absolutely not to electrical codes for modern houses, it also raises a new question.

“Sir… what’s your powerbar plugged into?”

“It’s plugged into a powerbar!”

“…. The same powerbar?”

There’s a moment of stunned silence, followed by a *Click*. I pause my line for a minute so I don’t get any more incoming calls while I take my notes, but really I’m watching this account. I refresh a few times, and after a minute or so, the modem is MAGICALLY ONLINE

This dude. This chaotic dumbass had his modem plugged into a powerbar, which was plugged into ITSELF. Like, I know there’s that meme flying around that shows that, and it’s supposed to be a joke on how stupid people can be, an exaggeration of sorts… But I swear, this is NOT an exaggeration. This shit actually happened.

So, the moral of the story: If you’re on the line with Tech Support, and they ask you to just “Check the wires” or “Make sure the device is plugged in firmly.” Just do the thing. We’ve dealt with a lot of dumbasses in our time.

Before it’s asked: No, this was not an elder gentleman. It was a Prime-Of-His-Life dude.

[thechaoticfanartist]

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

no excuses writing meme

Hi okay so this got away from me. Anyway enjoy some Grim & Obi-Wan angst from the new version of As Long As There's Light:

"You know between his howling and your blasting it's a wonder the whole station doesn't know we're here!" Luke snapped at Han as he took off his stolen helmet.

"It really is. What if someone had spotted you? I mean you are harboring two wanted droids, a wookie, and an infamous Jedi Master," remarked a stormtrooper who had apparently followed them. She crossed her arms in an almost familiar manner.

Han and Luke immediately turned around and pointed their blasters at her. Although Obi-Wan was reluctant to draw his weapon. Even though the helmet covered her face the comment she had made, alongside her behavior instantly gave her away. As if her Force signature didn't already. Even if it had been sixteen years since they had last seen each other.

With two weapons pointed directly at her she calmly raised her hands in surrender, taking off her helmet as she did so. There was zero doubt about who she was now. "Grim," Obi-Wan sighed.

Luke and Solo shared a confused glance. "You know her?" Han demanded.

"I do," he replied calmly. "It's alright, she's an old friend."

She smiled at him warmly. An expression he hadn't seen on her for longer than they had been apart. "Thank you, Master," she replied. Her face then fell as her brows furrowed together. There was a concerned glint in her eye that he was far too familiar with. "What happened to you?"

It took Obi-Wan a moment to understand what she was talking about. He noticed that she was looking at the right side of his face. This only confused him, surely it would have been something she had seen. He touched his burn scars lightly, frowning at his former Padawan. "You mean you don't know?" He lowered his hand, bringing it back to rest at his side. It didn't make sense to him how Grim didn't know about his encounter with Vader. "Nevermind, that's in the past." They had more pressing matters anyway. "What are you doing here, little one?"

Before she could answer Threepio spoke up. "I don't mean to interrupt, however we found the computer outlet."

It was back to the mission then. Obi-Wan turned around and instructed the droids. "Plug in. He should be able to interpret the entire Imperial network."

Artoo followed his directions as Threepio translated for him. “He says he’s found the controls to the power beam that’s holding your ships here. He’ll try to make the precise location appear on the monitor." Just as he said that the images appeared on screen. "The tractor beam is coupled to the main reactor in seven locations. A power loss at one of the terminals will allow your ships to leave.”

He nodded. "Well, I don't think you boys can help me," Obi-Wan informed the two. His attention then turned towards his daughter. He saw the look in her eyes, he had seen it before when she knew death was coming. Now she looked at him with this same expression. "Grim, we both know I have to do this on my own."

She bowed her head. "I don't care. I want to go with you."

"I do too!" Luke proclaimed.

He looked at the two of them and smiled sadly. For a small moment it was as if he was with his Padawans in The Clone Wars again, before the war had taken its turn for the worst. But that had been a long time ago. "Be patient, the both of you. I need you to watch over the droids — and each other. These droids must be delivered safely or other star systems will suffer the same fate as Alderaan. Both your destines lie along different paths than mine." He knew in that moment that it would be Grim who would complete Luke's training. He turned to him and gave his last Padawan a final reminder. "The Force will be with you, always."

With those words he began to leave to disable the tractor beams. However as he was walking away Grim shouted behind him. "No!" He paused and turned around to see his daughter barely able to keep herself composed. "No!" She snapped. "You don't get to do this, dad! You want to know what I'm doing here? I came here for you! Don't tell me I get to see you again after sixteen years only to lose you again…." She trailed off as a choked sob escaped.

His face softened and he walked back over to her. "I'm sorry, my dear. I think we both know what's going to happen. You can't save me. But…there are others who need you. Luke is going to need you."

She looked up at him with teary eyes. A sight he wished he wasn't so familiar with. "But I need you," she told him. She nearly sounded like the child he found on that battlefield all those years ago.

He placed his hand on her shoulder. "No, you don't. You haven't needed me for a long time."

With those words she suddenly pulled him into a hug. Her hands gripped onto his cloak tightly as she began to cry into his shoulder. Obi-Wan's heart ached, they hadn't hugged in so long, and he knew it would be their last. They both knew it. He moved his arms and embraced her. He held her as her whole body shook with the weight of a grief she had let burden her for too long. There was no need for words. He simply held her as if they were back in The Clone Wars. And for a small moment it didn't matter that it had been sixteen years since they had last seen each other. It didn't even matter that they were on an Imperial space station.

"I'm sorry," she whispered at last as she let go of him and stepped away. Obi-Wan did the same.

"I'm sorry, too," he replied. Neither of them had to say what they were apologizing for. "Goodbye Grim."

"Goodbye dad."

With that he turned away. He had a mission — a mission he knew he would not survive.

[sculptural-renaissance]

SGU Week Day 5: wildcard

I'm just posting some of my most ridiculous memes here for your enjoyment~

Mr. Sandman, send me a meme. Make it the dumbest shit I've ever seen.

Eli gets Rush a Garfield shirt. He refuses to take it off.

Lisa and Dale watched Terminator last week.

Pour one out for the Neopets that got abandoned because their owners got stranded on a spaceship.

"All right, Brody, you can put adding those knife blades to the sides of the shuttlecraft on the back burner. This week, we're making a blender. But like, a cool blender. A blender that could blend a guy."

"A brick."

"Yeah, well, if it can blend a brick, it can blend a guy."

"Water? You mean like in the toilet?"

Extra Dip

I think if they could move past their differences, with their combined imagination and familiarity with the ship's systems, they could generate something truly ludicrous.

This actually has context but I am not going to give it to you

[d1d11818]

Hello !! I missed you both, I am embarrassed to say that I got really excited to see you two! It’s nice to see one of you feels the same. (I am just teasing. I know you both like me…! Sorry. That was probably too much.)

Anyway…! I find somehow you and I always sort-of get to talking about like experiences, but I get what you mean in that feeling of inadequacy. Maybe not exactly — i’m hyperexpressive but also terrible with tone. But also, I have BPD and that makes it hard for me to ‘be a person.’ Especially since there’s a sort-of stigma around us, I both have to be careful to never be too much as well as mirror what the person I’m with is like so they will think positively of me. It’s exhausting, but people like me. But my friends like me when I’m not trying to be someone I’m not, and it’s taken me a bit to like… recognize that really the only people whose opinions that matter about this sort of thing are the ones that are like, those who are kind. That probably doesn’t even make sense?

…What I mean to say is, I don’t think it’s a bad thing, not being what others expect. People who actually care won’t mind that, you know? I think you’re doing great. It probably doesn’t mean much if I say I’m proud of you, but I am.

🫧

It’s a bit funny that you’ve returned on the day I had my second test for the same class! I never scheduled a first make-up test. Oops. But!!! I think I did better this time, at least. 我喜欢都！你两是好电脑，谢谢！I hope that works right. My memory is really, really bad, so that tends to be my issue with the tests: character recollection. But, the more I relate it to my fixations, the better I remember. Embarrassing how that works… But thank you for being so kind. It’s been a pretty horrible two weeks so it’s nice to hear. I hope you’ve been doing well — if not, if there’s anything I can do, just let me know!! I’ll do my best! :]

Also, the little symbols, I just found online. Any coding experience I have is HTMLCSS and my neocities site, which also isn’t that great. But it’s cute, at least!

Like I said before, take your time. I don’t mind at all! Sorry for responding so fast. I got kind of excited.

- 🐠

- You fool. Now all of Tumblr knows you like us.

- Ahahaha!

JOKE DETECTED. LIGHT HEARTED HUMOUR ACTIVATED.

- Don't worry, my friend.

- I find it rather endearing.

- It's a sign you trust us more, is it not?

- Anyway.

- I suppose we do. We have our roles, don't we?

- I deliver the wisdom and mysterious aura.

- D1d1 delivers the light hearted humour to make you forget your troubles.

- We're a good team, him and I.

- I can't say I know much about BPD.

- Mental health was never really my expertise.

- But I know it's difficult.

- I know things can get stressful for you very fast.

- I want you to know that I admire you.

- Greatly.

- As proud you are of me, I am as proud in return.

- You have pushed past your anxiety, made connections, made an effort to tell us about you...

- I truly think that is an incredible feat.

- Even if you never get the courage to turn anon off, we love you and are so proud of you.

- Platonically speaking, of course.

- Keep being yourself, Verte.

- That's the best thing you can be.

-------------------------------------------------

- I think it's so amazing how you can speak another language!! Even if you forget some characters! I can sort of speak other languages. Translate them, really. But my software isn't great for it! So I make mistakes a lot too. We'll learn together!

- I'm not gonna push you to talk about it, but if you ever need to rant, we're here for you! I'm sorry things have been tough for you! I hope things get better for you, I really do! If you ever need cute animal pictures or funny memes, I'll personally be happy to deliver!

WARNING. D1D1 SYSTEM TASTE IN MEMES NOT FUNNY. ARE YOU SURE YOU WISH TO CONTINUE?

-> NO

> NO

- I can also share some fun animal facts! Or plant facts! Ryan leaves zoology books everywhere, and Yinu has botanical ones, so I can find a ton of interesting stuff! Like this! Did you know the peacock mantis shrimp is so strong, it can boil water just by punching the earth? Never let one of those in a Ratatouille situation! Ouch!

- We're here for you, buddy!

[animehouse-moe]

Kagura Bachi Chapter 1: Mission

At this point, I'm sure everybody's seen all the memes and jokes about Kagura Bachi. #1 New-Gen Shonen manga that's better than God himself, or whatever. A funny joke at times, but a little overdone.

Kagura Bachi would never live up to that hype, but it's also not a series that's going down the gutter right this second. It struggles, as a first time mangaka will, but at the very least has the potential to turn things around. So, let's take a look at this first chapter then and see what it can do.

The art. All the teaser images you've seen around make it look surprisingly good, and in some places it is. But the default? It's not really that good. It's not awful, but it's far from something you'll routinely comment on.

Simple designs, simple faces, and not a lot that changes about them. Honestly, I'd put it on the same level as the Fantasy Bishoujo manga that I talked about earlier, but even then I think the average quality of the art in Kagura Bachi can struggle to keep pace. Anyways, it certainly doesn't hold a candle to other recent SJ additions. Not awful to be at the bottom of the pack, but the art itself certainly isn't an immediate selling point for readers.

Diving further into the art and style, same-face is a real struggle with the shape and designs of characters. Eyebrows and pupil/iris shapes are some of the main ways the mangaka forces distinction between their characters. Truthfully, it's not something that's a deal breaker by any means, but just points to the struggles of an early on artist (though it's not like I can really say anything when I can't draw to save my life).

A more important issue however is the action. It's got solid layouts and ideas, but the choreography can feel.. plain. Not a bad thing, but you need art that can fill those gaps, that can provide pace and movement within. Kagura Bachi does not have the benefit of art that can help with that. And so, because of that, the action ends up stuff, and even lackluster.

Well, I suppose that's enough about the art, let's talk story.

... it's essentially on the same page as the art. Some good, some bad, lotta mediocre. Bog standard revenge plot meets unique but highly underutilized power system.

Chihiro is the son of a famous blacksmith, at some point his father dies and Chihiro is out for revenge against an organization of sorcerers that, we as readers assume, are the ones that killed his father. But Chihiro's just a boy, how could he go up against sorcerers? Well, he's got some special katanas from his departed father.

Very typical, no? Which I think is a shame, because the chapter deeply limits itself. It starts with the story stating that "only" Chihiro has magically imbued Katanas, but anyone with half a brain knows that as the series goes on, villains will wield similar katanas as well. To clarify, we know that Chihiro's father has made more than just the katanas that Chihiro has. The core of the gripe is that only Chihiro's father was able to create them, and that there's no information about how many there are or who might wield them (spoiler, it's gonna be all the bad guys).

The second, and more problematic issue is how the power system is approached. It separates sorcery from the katanas themselves, which is a painful mistake. The magic should be tied to the swords, it would make for a way better power system to explore. Swords vs magic has been done a thousand times over, so I'm just not thrilled to see its opportunity squandered.

That's not where it ends though. Despite being a magic sword, and despite readers knowing, thanks to earlier exposition, that it has the ability to "ward off evil", the manifestation of that ability is... to turn the sword black and slash people really hard.

I really can't get more disappointed than this. You lead with this super cool visual of the goldfish that the katana is imbued with, and you follow with a single slash. Not even a fancy one. Just a big, fat, shonen manga slash.

So, at the end of it all. There'll be an audience for this type of story, there always is. Violent revenge plot centered around black haired swordsman fighting non-sword wielding enemies. About as generic as you could make it, really. I just hope that the mangaka sees the potential that they wield and changes it up. Different schools centered around various imbued properties. Allowing Chihiro the use of sorcery to attempt to create his own blades. Distancing itself from the revenge plot. The art will undoubtedly grow and improve if the series is allowed to live, but in these early chapters.... well it's now or never for shifting the focus of the story. It has the ability to go the distance, but by the hand of the mangaka, the story is going down a path that will destroy its potential.

[qedmirage]

As most of my international followers know here in the US we're having a presidential election this year. Well, that means each major party has to select their candidate, and the process for that has been going on for a while now. See, in the US, state-level parties have a lot of say in how they select candidates, so they randomly jockey for more important slots than each other, and this is why the party elections for their candidate take months and not, like, a week. Well for the past several months, in the lead up to actual voting, we've been obligated to pretend that several people with a snowball's chance in hell were serious candidates to control the world's [EDIT: second-] largest nuclear arsenal. I want to briefly commemorate/memorialize one of those candidacies, that of Ron DeSantis of florida.

See just a few days ago we had the iowa caucuses, a silly way to select presidential candidates that is ALSO unrepresentative of who the final nominee will be, as the winner secures an objectively tiny amount of points (called 'delegates') towards gaining a party's nomination and the system is designed to make it impossible for introverts to participate. You get like a tiny sliver of a party's membership voting in caucuses and it's weighted to favor the freaks and fanatics. And yet that simple, first contest, was enough to cause all but two of the field of GOP candidates to give up and go home. Because throughout the pre-pre-election season they would give fawning, obsequious praise to Donald Trump - the best president since Washington, possibly even better - and then be asked: "Isn't he also running for president? Why should people vote for you over him, if they like Trump?" to which the answer would be some vague mumbling about his legal challenges or age or how statistically most of the country wants to murder him with knives. (The notable exception here is wannabee mafioso Chris Christie, who at least does not forgive trying to kill him). Anyways, in final results Trump got 20 points, Ron DeSantis got 9, Nikki Haley got 8, and 4chan shitposter Vivek Ramaswamy got 3. Of those, only Trump and Nikki Haley didn't immediately give up. So anyways. Ron DeSantis. Actually presently a governor of a major state, and Florida at that - one which has shifted from 'swing' to 'republican' over his tenure. You could be forgiven for thinking he's a skilled politician. And yet. He repeatedly promised that his first day in office would start with war with mexico, which he never described in those terms. Rather he'd just

blockade mexican ports

shoot mexican nationals on the southern border without a trial ('people who have backpacks', apparently)

Send US military forces into mexico to kill more mexican citizens without trial

Cool. Normal. We're allies with that country, you know? He'd say such policies were informed by his military service as a lawyer in Iraq and then (he does not mention this part) Guantanomo Bay. Yeah, I bet they are. Though, for some reason, he always leaves off the "as a lawyer" part. DeSantis's team also produced some of the most deranged and openly fascist ads of a major candidate. See, the DeSantis campaign was oriented around "the war on woke", his efforts to use state power to roll back civil rights in general, progressives existing in government, and the rights of LGBT people in particular. Already cloaked in the language of online reactionaries it was always gonna attract freaks, and as a result, the ads made by younger staffers (released, not by the official campaign, but to pro-DeSantis meme accounts secretly run by his staffers) are totally deranged. Here's one of them; I'm going to warn you, it's intensely homophobic, to the point that a republican presidential candidate had to apologize for the homophobia.:

crazy ass moments in american politics on X: "The Ron DeSantis campaign team post a Trump attack ad feat. phonk. (2023) https://t.co/cwaWnZInG7" / X (twitter.com)

For those who don't wish to watch such things, the core thesis of the ad is that the republican party under Trump was captured by and coddled LGBT people, and DeSantis will restore strong masculinity and crush LGBT americans. DeSantis is paralleled to noted straight Achilles, those sigma chad memes, and fictional murderer Patrick Bateman, all while heavy bass music plays. My personal favorite stills:

Again, these are from an ad for a guy who quit after literally the first contest. Truly a fighter.

But even that pales in comparison to the "running up that hill" ad. That one is one of the most straightforwardly fascist pieces of advertising a modern american politician has made. While perhaps less directly offensive, viewer be warned, this is nazi shit: Luke Thompson on X: "The @desantiscams account just deleted this video after at least one campaign staffer RT'd it. I wonder if this was also made in-house. https://t.co/JA1D9qqONF" / X (twitter.com) (It was, in fact, made in-house).

The esoteric nazi symbolism did not go unnoticed. Nor the fact that it ends on DeSantis's paramilitary "florida guard" (not the national guard!) marching forward into a bright dawn while he looks down approvingly. The aide who made that video was fired, but it's no wonder he felt at home; DeSantis's whole appeal is about threatening to use extralegal power against conservatism's enemies. He tried to revoke Disney's special tax statuses based purely on an extremely beige statement in support of LGBT rights they issued, and again, established a paramilitary force under his command. There are far more examples than those two. Not a 'normal' politician. Aside from setting millions of dollars of republican donor money on fire, DeSantis's campaign leaves behind a legacy of the various 'posting is life' type laws he enacted in Florida to raise his public profile. These include a raft of laws that target and victimize LGBT americans: [Thread of several such stories, reported in major outlets]

And he was also a noted figure in the conservative turn against COVID precautions, defenses, and vaccinations. While we'll never know such things to precision, Florida's COVID deaths record was considerably worse than many other states, despite its wealth and good climate. They chose not to pursue safer methods so as to buoy DeSantis's future presidential ambitions, now dead in the street. Like most failed presidential primary candidates he will probably not have a long future in national politics; DeSantis is a weirdo who eats pudding with his bare fingers, he's profoundly uncharismatic, and he's fought against his team's de facto leader. But before it's all consigned to dust of history, I'd just like to take a moment to remember all the real people who have suffered for his campaign, and for what? So he can make a 72 second ad with him shooting lightning from his eyes, get 21% of the vote in Iowa, and give up after 8 days.

A statesman for the ages, truly.