#inspired by the complete insanity of

[twistedtummies2]

When Neige Does Anything

Prefect: Vil, Neige just wants to make you happy! Vil: THEN HE SHOULD SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST.

[lucabyte]

i feel like people are sleeping on the occam's razor situation of how buckwild it is to outright accuse a guy of being a clone of your friend even if you DO have a lot of circumstantial evidence. there's other options is what im saying. they could just be like. a guy. that's a sensible deduction. you should explore that deduction. ignore my shirt that reads I <3 RED HERRINGS.

i still think odile has the correct theory on lock but she's smart enough to know it needs like... a real smoking gun to be able to bring it up without sounding insane.

anyway. (mirabelle voice) i know its rude to speculate but has anyone else noticed the grieving? they seem to be grieving. does anyone have any thoughts on the grieving? i have some thoughts on the grieving.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

The tale of Alex Turner's girlfriend's jumper, Josh Homme, and the making of Humbug

(Extracts from Mojo Magazine, September 2009)

The jumper sealed the deal: the cable-knit jumper, belonging to his girlfriend. Alex Turner just happened upon it early one evening in the different late summer of 2008, as he waited for the telephone to ring. It wasn't so much the fact of it being a girl's jumper. He could get away with wearing a size skinny, after all. And besides, it would be dark at the gig he planned to go to later on. No, it was the cable-knit which gave him pause. Was he, Alex wondered, really a cable-knit guy?

His reverie was interrupted by the call he'd been expecting. Alex had spoken to Josh Homme before: the Queens Of The Stone Age leader declared himself a fan by marching into the Arctic Monkeys dressing room at a Belgian festival the previous year; later in 2007 the Monkeys supported the Queens in Houston. Compliments were exchanged, though Alex did wonder about the precise mutuality of this appreciation. Maybe 70-30? Obviously, the Monkeys were big fans of QOTSA: the Queens' sensual dirt-rock had been a key benchmark for their album Favourite Worst Nightmare. And Josh Homme? He had at least heard of Alex's band, and that was good enough. But now here he was, on the phone, accepting the invitation to produce the next Arctic Monkeys album. Alex deferred taking the conversation down to brass tracks. Airily, he mentioned his knitwear dilemma.

Homme was firm on the matter.

"Go for it, man."

But I'm not sure. I mean, it belongs to me girlfriend, and it fits, and it looks all right, but...

"Just throw caution to the wind," said Homme, as if issuing an imperial edit. "Let go of those inhibitions you've got there and just wear your cable-knit."

Sound, said Alex. So, about this record...?

"I listened to the demo," said Homme. "I heard 30 seconds of it and thought, You're coming to the desert." Then, to himself, he added with relish. "And little do you know what's about to happen..."

That evening, Alex Turner wore his girlfriend's cable-knit jumper. A month or so later, he and his three bandmates were picked up from a Los Angeles hotel by Josh Homme and driven out to the small Mojave Desert town of Joshua Tree, where they began recording the new Arctic Monkeys album. One phone abut cable-knitwear later, Arctic Monkeys were off to southern California for a hot date.

....

Presiding throughout this transformative process [of recording Humbug], during the warm autumn days or late into the chilly desert nights, would be Alex Turner's girlfriend's cable-knit jumper.

"Josh likes to speak in analogies, in terms of how things should sound," says the Arctic Monkeys' songwriter with a chuckle, as he reflects upon the six-month gestation of his band's new album. "Cable-knits got mentioned a lot during recording. He was like, if you can wear a cable-knit you can put a glockenspiel on a tune. It became a metaphor: you can wear a cable-knit and then sonically we can try something different. We went off on a little adventure. Because we were conscious that if this were really going to work, we would have to open up a little more than we have in the past. Joshua Tree really feels far away. You felt..." He frowns, reaching for the right word. "Unpoliced."

Which all rather begs the question: does that six and a half foot ginger hunk of abiding rockness Josh Homme wear cable-knitwear? A small smile plays around the corners of Alex Turner's mouth.

"He assured me he did."

....

The previous evening Alex finally spoke to Josh Homme for the first time since Humbug's completion. After expressing his delight with the end results of their combat crawl through the Mojave badlands, Homme enquired whether Turner was going out later. Alex informed that he was. "Cable-knits?" asked Homme. "Cable-knits," said Alex, the Arctic Monkey, comfortable in the embrace of the strange.

....

[weedle-testaburger]

when you hear a fucking terrible song sample a way better one

[klunkcat]

kitchen counters

part of the "live to let you shine" collection

rise of the tmnt word count: 2.7k

archer au belongs to @goodlucktai but they've been more than kind and let all of us expand the larger universe with them on this journey. Check out the link for future instalments by my lovely collab partners.

Art in this chapter is by the lovely @soldrawss

it's a delight and an honor to play in this sandbox with you all <3 read on ao3

He got up. He started the coffee machine, making sure to put the exact scoops needed and enough leftovers for an eventual third cup if it was that kind of day. It always was that kind of day. Today he was thinking he’d make avocado toast for breakfast. April had brought a bag of avocados yesterday, sometimes the variety was more effective than even a third coffee. 

Sometimes his brothers almost smiled. 

There were motions to this sort of thing. You made things with your hands to keep them from shaking, you washed blankets and folded them on empty couches. You kept the TV on playing old movies just to pretend it wasn’t silent. 

He’s been moving in the same path for long enough to be an expert. No one notices. He doesn’t need them to notice. 

The coffee pot is full, the kitchen is warm. If he’s alone then he’s alone and finding tasks to be busy with. To keep his hands moving. 

“Hi,” A voice greets him. Mikey blinks up, he’d been making toast, probably; half unconsciously. A familiar dotted face stares back, impassive and steady. 

Giorgio, the last little light. It pulls a smile on his cheeks from some tired place within himself that’s still curved comfortable and safe. “Hi sweet kid, want some breakfast?” 

Gio settles himself against the counter, arms crossed and wide eyed. He nods slowly. 

It’s one of those mornings again— he’s aware of the way the silence clings to the bones of this place, shaves it cold and hollow with memories no one wants to think on. There’s no movement down the hall to Donnie’s lab, but the door is shut fast and firm. The wide open spaces where the skate ramp had once stood are stark. It’s a morning that feels haunted, except they’d all want for the haunting if they could. 

“April brought groceries?” Gio asks quietly. It’s more a prompt than a genuine question.

Gio had fallen into their lives at a point where the safety net had more holes than threads to hold. He was young, had the signs of a life hard won and fought through, but he tried. Absorbed absolutely anything his family would give him, even when it was nothing at all. Dark eyes, taking in any and all of the light he could just to find himself. 

It was a tragedy in three parts just to watch him thrive off wavering candlelights and embers, wandering around the halls like a detective finding hints of some past crime. 

Mikey squares himself. Finds that thread left in him that’s farther and farther away every day. Gio deserves the light, he can make some for him. He can. 

“She did, I’m going to introduce you to the wild world of avocado on toast today. How’s that sound?” 

Gio shrugs, curiosity flickering in his dark gaze. He’d take anything any of them laid out for him like it was a gift. Mikey’s throat ached with the old wound of wishing. 

“You know, it’s funny. The first time I ever got my hands on fruit like this was because of April. Hard to buy things in stores, you know?” Gio did not know, Gio grew up somewhere far away in between pages, but he tilted his head at Mikey like he understood anyways. Mikey’s grin grew stronger. “I think it was peppers. Thought it would be neat to make these stuffed ones I’d seen on TV, use up all these special spices. Man, they were good .” He turns back to the fruit in front of him, carefully and easily slicing around the pit in the center. 

“Raph had two, ate them so fast I didn’t even see them go. So I thought I’d make him a third. Asked if he’d want this next one with more spice.” He shakes his head fondly. “And he just sort of squints at me, you know? He says, ‘are peppers not always spicy?’ So that’s how we found out he was allergic. The guy didn’t even stop trying to eat them after.” 

Gio huffs a breath, it’s as good as an outloud laugh. The bones in Mikey’s hands feel warmer as he carefully scoops the halves of the fruit into a bowl. 

He knows the version of Raph that Gio knows is… different. That he barely talks, let alone plays along. It’s another ache, another ghost. Mikey scoops out the pit from another avocado, and crushes it in with the rest. 

Mikey doesn’t want the kitchen to be silent. He’s so, so tired of silence. “You want to hear a story?” 

The quiet telltale noise of a kitchen chair sliding back answers his question for him, Gio props his chin up under his hand. The pilot light in Mikey’s chest flickers fondly. 

There are a thousand versions of a thousand moments he could pick from, they all hurt like pressing on an open wound. Some are more like bruises, though. Some he thinks are better to hurt. 

“There was this chef I knew. Had this crazy accident with mutagen, somehow instead of using it to make his cooking show more popular it made him desire eating people. Go figure.” He scoops out a portion of the spread onto a piece of toast, scraping it across as he talks. “Had a vendetta for people that told him no, funny that. He’d decided once that his whole plan would be to poison every other potential competition, which was crazy but you have to believe me when I say his pastries were actually that good.” 

“Better than yours?” Gio cuts in softly. 

He’s so, so grateful for the little bits of love Gio’s found here. How he radiates all of it back out so loudly in his own way. “Hah, I learned everything I know from watching him, but I will take that compliment.” He grabs two plates and slides them across the table, dragging his knuckle gently across Gio’s cheek as he goes. 

“We drove Raph up the wall. ” He remembers fondly. “He was dead set on trying to teach us to handle problems, and we were distracted by how delicious these things were.” 

Gio arches a brow. Mikey laughs, holding up a hand. “Survival instincts developed later.” 

He sits across from the kid, who hasn’t even made a move for his toast. Dark eyes serious and trained on him like anytime Mikey talked about who they had been before. Echoes of echoes, ghosts haunting themselves. 

“You wouldn’t believe it. All of us blearily goofing around and Raph panicking, trying to get us to take any part of it seriously. And our blue just walks up to a guy we needed information from, sweating up to his eyeballs and manages to charm his way almost entirely through the whole thing.” 

His smile turns inwards. They’d all relied on Raph so much, then, but there’d been these moments where Leo would just… clue in to what needed to happen. Pull an answer out of thin air like he’d known it all along and was just hoping someone else would give it a shot first. He’d always seen twenty steps ahead. 

Gio shifts. Reaches for his toast and takes a careful bite. Mikey pulls himself back to the present, makes sure his smile is warm and fond. 

“If we’d had you back then, I’m sure you’d have thought we were all completely off our rockers. Raph would have been delighted to have a back up.” 

He loves you, Mikey thinks. He does, I swear. He’d have loved to have loved you. 

The kid hums, considers. “Depends.”

“On?” 

Gio shrugs. “How good were these pastries?”

The kitchen is warm, the laugh that bursts from him is bright. Real, for a second, caught in this space between loss. He faults that for the way he forgets himself.

“Leo would have loved you,” he says. 

The moment freezes. Ices. 

Gio’s eyes are shining, but careful across from him. 

He doesn’t say his name; he thinks it, a thousand times a thousand ways, but he doesn’t say it. He can feel the flinch like a wounded noise in the stillness of his home. Ghosts misplaced and unsettled. 

Right. 

The smile fades. 

He misses the flash in Gio’s eyes. 

“You know,” Mikey makes himself say, a limping version of his usual cheer strangling itself in his voice. “I think I’ll save the rest for later. Maybe when Raph and Donnie are up.” 

“Right,” Gio says, softly. 

Raph and Donnie are never up. Dad’s room is a black hole. April hasn’t stayed in the lair longer than saying hi in months. Ten years stretches itself long and warped across the stone floors, a shadow that never sits right. 

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” He says to Gio’s careful dark gaze. I’m sorry , he means. I don’t have more to give you. I’ll be better next time. 

Gio shifts, scoops Mikey’s plate from in front of him. It’s okay, it means. I know. It’s plenty. This is enough. 

There were motions to this sort of thing. You tried to be someone larger than yourself. You watched your family drift farther and farther away. You were never enough on your own. 

The coffee pot is full, the kitchen is empty. He can’t pretend his hands don’t shake when he stops moving. 

Gio didn’t need a lot of love, he thrived like a weed on the barest scraps of it; a dandelion pushing through old slabs of shattered concrete. A kid growing despite himself in the middle of a ruined family. 

He should have it, though. The kind that was loud, was obvious. Didn’t need explanations or excuses, the kind that just was. 

Mikey’s family did love Gio, he knew they did. It was just… All of their love had gone somewhere else. Down a rabbit hole, following a comet in the night sky. Flashfire quick and burnt up in the atmosphere. It existed, it was there, but quieter; the feeling of heat after the sun has left.

Raph sometimes brushed his hand across Gio’s head when he made the infrequent journey from the practice area to the front door. Dad called him ‘Grey’ in the same way he’d used Orange and Red and once, Blue. April had gotten into a kick of looking for all the types of food Gio had missed out on through his ambiguous years before them, roped the kid and Mikey into trying out recipes together too. 

Don kept looking forward. Mikey couldn’t ask anything more of him. 

The love was still there, though, because it always was. It just wasn’t always the kind that Mikey thought the kid deserved. The kind he himself had been lucky enough to know when he was younger. 

You should get to be greedy, Mikey thinks, watching the kid try and fail another time to breach the threshold into Donnie’s room. You should never have to question it. 

A larger lump in his throat he clears away with a harsh blink, sorry Leo, you left me pretty big shoes to fill. 

“Morning,” He tries for a smile, forcing everything else back under the constant thrum of movement he’d been surviving off for ten years and four months. Gio blinks up at him, as unphased as ever by his brother's complete lack of interest. 

Mikey notes it anyways, the twinge of a furrowed brow, the unsure creep of his shoulders. He stores it in the place behind his heart he’s built for all the protective instincts he doesn’t know what he can do with. He puts a hand on the kid's shoulder. 

(He leans into it, of course he leans into it. Fractions of fractions of a family he should have always known.) 

“Hi Mike.”

“Hi, I have something for you.” 

Gio’s perpetually flat expression melts into a sidestep of curiosity. “For me?” 

Mikey giggles, rubs a hand across his spotted head. “See any other little brother’s around? Yes, for you, kiddo.” He leads them towards the kitchen, to the bench stools against the counter. He tries to make it bright in here, he remembers the kitchen always being warm. The kitchen should be warm for him, too.

Gio lets himself be led easily, dark eyes wide and trusting. He is a nineteen year old built in heaps and parts and scraps off self determination, of needing to survive and surviving it alone, but sometimes it all melts into something malleable; something Mikey can almost see the shape of, reaching all the way back half their lives into the past. He tries to be a good big brother the way he learned. 

He holds out a sweater, fresh from the dryer and as soft as anything with wear. Bright red and too large, the perfect shape Mikey had always thought, to feel like you were carrying home with you in your arms. 

“Loved to borrow this thing when I was younger. Figured it was time to pass the mantle officially,” He tosses it to Gio. 

The kid stares at it, at him. Holding it as though the sweater were a fine piece of china and not a decades worn old thing they’d all lovingly had a hand in weathering. Mikey huffs a laugh, feels his smile hang lopsided. “You’re supposed to wear it, Gogo.” 

His jaw works. “Isn’t it…” he hesitates, gaze snapping over to the practice room. “Isn’t this Raphael’s?” 

Raph’s, Mikey thinks with heartbreak in his hands. Raphie’s. Formalities don’t belong here, I’m sorry I can’t make you believe me. 

Mikey nods. “Mhm. Said you should have it, you know. Little brother special.” 

He hadn’t really, he didn’t say much of anything to anyone. He’d seen Mikey take it, though. It was as good as giving. 

Gio’s dark eyes snap up to his, something overwhelmed building in his expression before he scrunches his hands and pulls the whole thing over his head. Mikey is right, it’s far too big. The bottom of it brushes his shins. 

“It’s too big,” Gio says quietly. 

Mikey’s not having that today, he shakes his head, stepping forwards. “No, it’s perfect. Exactly right. You’re practically as tall as me, kid, do you think I pulled this off any better when I was your age? Right of passage.” He bends, and carefully tucks the ends of the sleeves into themselves, rolling it all to Gio’s forearm. 

“See? Perfect fit.” 

There’s a moment— Gio looking up at him, eyes wide. Sleeves poofed and large, hood a halo around his neck— he sees a flash of blue. 

“Yeah?” Gio says, flatly as he does. Mikey thinks he detects a hint of nerves in there, something akin to a kid who was once shy. He nudges Gio’s chin with his knuckle. 

“Would I lie?” He grins. 

He isn’t expecting the serious stare in return. “No,” Gio says, confidently. Without hesitating. Like it isn’t a hole puncher through the core of him, like he’s maybe been hearing the ‘they love you’s’ all along, like he can feel it in the hems. 

The kid looks down at the sewn on pocket at the front, shoves his hands in delicately like he’s unearthing a spider web from the dew. “Thank you,” He adds, after a moment. “I won’t wreck it.”

Mikey’s heart springs another leak. “You couldn’t possibly, buddy.” 

When the opportunity came, Gio jumped at the chance. Mike let him, god help him, he did. Fighting himself and the cobweb reminders of a brother he was trying to save, that it wasn’t a trade. That he wouldn’t, that losing Gio would be another piece of himself left behind. 

It didn’t help that Gio had folded the sweater so nicely. That he’d pressed it into Mikey’s hands and smiled in that tiny, sweet way of his, that he was sure Raph would want it back. 

He’d want you back, he’d wanted to say. He just doesn’t know it yet. 

Gio looked at him like forgiveness and regret all in one. 

Sometimes it goes like this: 

You’re a brother, you’re a part of a whole, and then you’re a part of a fracture. Sometimes you love, and you love, and you lose anyways, and what’s left behind is still beautiful, but it looks like somewhere you’ve never been before. You miss what it was, but the places where you were are small and curved and perfect, and what you’d had to become in the remnants is not anything like it had been at all. 

Sometimes someone has to go, and it’s not always you. He tries to be okay with that, he doesn’t think he does a very good job. 

[slavhew]

28/01/2024

stars don't twinkle moon doesn't shine

big thanks to @nahrgles for finishing this for me after i hit a wall with colors bg and effects- chromatic aberration blew my fkn mind

pre edit transparent version under cut because i spent too much time cleaning it loll

[wizardpink]

I think it's important people know that the original interview happened in 1973, Alice told Daniel she was pregnant in 1985, and Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac was released as a b-side to the Go Your Own Way single in 1976.

[honourablepranksinatra]

Maple Leafs discourse on their team social medias makes me lose brain cells because wdym they're first in their division and coming off a 5 game win streak & people are commenting that the top players are only in it for the money and have no drive, that particular players are useless and need to be traded asap, that they're a garbage team, that they'll never make it past the first round just because they lost one game.

Apparently because they are being payed handsomely the players must be mindless automatons who perform perfectly every night. It drives me absolutely nuts how quickly alleged fans will completely turn on their own team.

[rosykims]

thought abt solas as eurydice again

[king-of-the-mouseboys]

remember how I said spooky season is making me more deranged?

yeah, spooky season is making me EVEN MORE FUCKIN DERANGED

anyways thinking about getting kidnapped but like in a pre-planned “oh boy I sure hope I don’t get stolen away for the night by someone who adores me and might be a little obsessed with me!! anyways time to go for a nice lil midnight walk down this alleyway :)” way

[juminies]

Feel free to be more specific/explain your reasoning in the tags or replies if you want to (especially if you think it's less than a month are we talking 2 days or 3 weeks)

Everything vaguely timeline related from Jumin AE below if you want to use it to inform your vote

[bumblingbabooshka]

Someone on the "is it not enough to see Tuvok" post commented "Unfortunately, seeing Tuvok frequently requires also seeing a Neelix, which is unacceptable." and Bea, I am being sooo brave about it, I've not even murdered them (yet)

I am pinning this to your lapel like a purple heart:

They are worsties, they're divorced despite never being married, they have pigtail crushes on each other, they are mutually annoying co-workers, they are middle aged men and also high school girls with the most insane beef ever, family men without families, orchid breeders (one for sustenance and the other for beauty), they're everything.

[midnightdemonhunter]

i love you, jack.

[starbuck]

i'm honestly so easy...

[sisterdivinium]

Me: tries to keep a mostly WN-related dash and for that reason only follows a little less than some 20 blogs

Also me: jeez why is my dashboard always so quiet

[asheanon]

So, uh... I stated over on the Xitter how I wanted to go on a Dissidia (personal story/fanfic - yes, it includes OCs and original material. This is Ashe writing this, after all) tangent so badly, but hate fighting with text limitations with these sorts of things, so here I am, hopping over to Tumblr to go on said tangent. 🕺

(Tangent placed beneath a cut. Proceed with caution! Maybe.)

⚠️ Disclaimer for those who have played the game: I'm still experiencing the game. I'm not going to know everything. I just can't help but feel the inspiration blaze through me at certain points throughout the Dissidia OO experience, which compels my mind to take off with thoughts galore (whether or not I want it to. I can't control this brain of mine; it's like a wild animal sometimes, trust me!) I am inspired af, but please keep in mind I could be incorrect about certain bits of lore and still have a lot to experience - and I am fully aware of that even in writing this out.

Also, no spoilers. NONE. Furnish me with the informations only if I ask. If I'm wrong about something, I promise I'll concede that when I later find out about it. For now, this is just me having fun. Let me have fun. I'm just getting all these thoughts out of my head before they drive me crazy...! Hahaha!

Anyway, sorry. That disclaimer may or may not be longer than the tangent itself. Onto the actual tangent!

💭

So...! 🤔 Given how there's a tiny bit of "wibbly wobbly timey whimey" stuff going on with how characters are brought in, if you will, I can't help but to think about some wacky situations that may make for some neat story potential…

I'm going to start with the more "conservative" thoughts. Thoughts on characters from the same world being pulled in from different parts of their own respective timeline, so you have different sections of experiences and memories to play with.

Particularly (spoilers): Sal experienced the deaths of some particular characters who are not only alive, but they were brought in from a time where they had not died. She has a lot of memories about them that they have yet to experience.

When all of this is over, she's going to return to a world where they're no longer alive. And she has that good ol' fun time looming over her. : )

Which, as tragic as that is, I do dig that kind of narrative - I mean, to boot: I dig it, but I started realizing that it was one I'd worked with before, even... it was one she experienced in The Anomaly (FFVII x Original fanfic.) Of course, the moment I realized that, I was like "how original, Ashe. Good. Guess we'll do this song and dance again because you can't resist it, clearly." Haha!

BUT... it was then that I had the less "conservative" thoughts... Namely: since all this "wibbly wobbly timey whimey" stuff is happening anyway, what if... I didn't just inject Starlight (FFIX x Original) material in this, but also injected The Anomaly material? What if both of those stories were allowed some agency in this?

And by extension, what if the Sal (the Sal, you read that correctly) that is brought in has only experienced one of those stories (Starlight, because I'm biased at this time) while the characters from the other story (The Anomaly) experienced a different version of her than what is present? They met her (some rendition of her.) She never met them (that version of her never did.)

Again, reminder: Sal is a world hopper. For her to be part of any given FF world in this type of FF scenario is really just a matter of chance. Technically speaking, she has experienced at least two of those worlds - in different timelines, but given that there is only one Sal present... I was utterly delighted by the oddity of just picking one rendition of her to have amidst the wild and random chance that the renditions of the FFIX and FFVII worlds/characters have characters that both experienced her and didn't.

🤔

It's so weird and self indulgent on my part, I know. I get it. (It's also my own little Dissidia-esque excuse for being able to include some FFVII OCs and story beats from various perspectives, haha!) I literally cannot resist thinking about it in all of its weird and self indulgent glory, though. I cannot be stopped. 🥴

Even if I don't use the idea, I'm still going to think about it, you know? And talk about it too, apparently. Haha!

All of that being said, though, I have entertained the thought of Sal's actual "world" (the original one - not just her inclusion in fanfics) being included in Dissidia as well. This would include characters like Nat, Tsuniah and, well, Vance. This guy.

I'd talk more about what makes the inclusion of Vance and different timelines + funky memory loss stuff going on especially fascinating (to me) here, but it really... wouldn't make sense to the rest of you. It's all original stuff; story I know and have yet to tell the rest of the world, so... yeah. 🥲 But there's potential in that too that I'd love to play around with!

In that respect, between the Dissidia shenanigans and Fall To The Moon ones, should I ever actually manage to write out some story stuff for them, I may yet instill some intrigue in regards to who he is along with these other OCs of mine. Create my own Dissidia effect - basically, compel people to want to get to know them outside of AUs and fanfics (because Dissidia OO makes me want to get to know characters I have yet to get to know, let me tell you. Haha!)

Anyway... Lawdy, I'd say that's a good ol' tangent right there. That'll do it, for now. To anyone and everyone who stopped by to read this... madness... thank you. I hope it was entertaining, otherwise, sorry I wasted your time...! 😅

Until next time.

🌌 😎👆👉

-Moonwalks back into The Twilight Zone.-