#i cant explain this without sounding insane

[demetera-kaziaik]

Déjà-vu

[localsimpissleepy]

Anyone care for some memes for these crackships of mine?-

[lollytea]

Huntlow situationship gives me such intense brain termites you don't get it

[bunnyboy-juice]

oh my fucking gd

[absolutelyzoned]

anyone else have this problem where its so hard to get attached to people and you feel like everyone is actually lying about liking you or just doesnt care . like,. i dont know how to explain it without sounding like a dick but i just. cant make myself like people

[brambletakato]

its very funny to have an au of an au of an au and then onwards because at what point is that just not the same guy anymore

[saturn-moons]

if hozier really does love the same way he writes his songs, then he's truly the only person who understands me.

[roboraindrop]

Hiiii it's almost 2am and I'm thinking about Chucky.............. I am so in love with him

[spadescd]

red string conspiracy theory wall except its for things ive seen on my dashboard

[lqnar]

Think animals who are like food motivated or whatever in training is such a sad concept but i think im mentally ill about it

[3liza]

after meaning to get around to it for years i finally listened to almost the entirety of Sold a Story and it is as groundbreaking as everyone says it is. it's also the most confusing, to me, single event in American culture in my lifetime and my reasons for thinking that are pretty complex so im not sure theyre fully formed yet. there's a list of shit in this podcast that made me feel like i was going insane

i KNEW something was going on at a population level, i've been noticing it for years, people kept telling me i was imagining things, but i was RIGHT, two generations of kids have been reduced to barely-literate levels of language function because of this shit and you CAN see it and hear it while talking to people in the world!

the entire adoption of the Calkins programs in the first place were based on the majority of people responsible for American child education deciding basically overnight that "children don't need to learn phonics in order to become strong readers" which is literally and not figuratively equivalent to saying "children can learn algebra without learning what numbers are". it is so self-evidently false i dont even know how to respond to such an assertion. you have to be fundamentally devoid of common sense to think this is true. language is comprised of sounds (phonemes), sounds are represented by letters, letters make up the alphabet, the alphabet makes up words, and words make up sentences. you cant just skip over the parts of this you dont like, it's the basis of our entire civilization. "i dont need to learn individual notes i just want to play to saxophone" okay well. too bad? you cant

american primary education apparently has no communication whatsoever with the scientific fields of human behaviorism, pediatrics, neurology, linguistics, the science of learning generally, and there is next to zero communication between teachers who are actively responsible for educating children and the entire research field of educating children. they just dont talk to each other, at least in huge swaths of the country. in retrospect this is obvious, i just have been assuming incorrectly this entire time that maybe, surely, some aspect of how our public schools are administered is in some way being guided by scientific evidence and research. this has apparently not been the case for 20+ years. Lucy Calkins herself claims she "didn't know" that the research on how children acquire language had been essentially settled by the 1990s, she just wrote her stupid book based on her own self-assurance that what she THOUGHT children were doing when they learned language was correct. she ddin't check, she didnt ask about research or studies, she didn't test her hypothesis, she just told everyone she had figured out how to teach kids to read based on nothing but her own untested assumptions. and everyone was like "okay sounds good". every single person involved in this process is or was in a position of responsibility for educating american children. and almost none of them thought to ask "okay, but have you tested it? does it work?" because they didn't test it, and it doesnt work, and for some reason that was never even brought up

teachers kept being interviewed on this podcast who kept saying things like: "they never taught us how to teach children to read" and "they didn't teach us how children learn so i had no idea how it worked" and then explaining this was why they were so easily hoodwinked by the Calkins program. i don't understand this. what is actually taught during the two year degree programs at teaching colleges? if it's not child psychology, pedagogy, neurology, and actual techniques for teaching children, what are they teaching you to do there? one of my friends who went to a teaching college told me they mostly provided classes on lesson planning.

individual teachers apparently are not reading books or articles or papers on any of these subjects either. so having graduated from a teaching college knowing nothing about children, teaching, or even basic english literacy ("i didn't know how to teach phonics and no one told me" is another thing actual teachers kept saying on the podcast. girl, SESAME STREET can teach basic english phonics, and it does), almost none of them actually do any investigation on their own. they just show up to their workplace (the school) and "teach" whatever admin hands them. ?????????????? how is this possible?

i realized last night in a fugue of post-exertional malaise that the three-cueing method of teaching reading is training children to approach language very similarly to how a large language model does it. they laboriously instruct the children to guess what the next word in a sentence will be, often by actually covering the word with a post-it note and then cajoling and badgering the child until he guesses the word under the post-it, based on the vibes on the sentence he's reading. this doesnt teach you to read, it teaches you to act like youre reading

this isnt directly addressed in the podcast but we used to just teach everyone english like it was an actual system that has parts and rules and structures, because that's what a language is. everyone would start with phonics and the alphabet, then later do stuff like sentence diagramming and grammar, neither of which have been taught in primary schools in decades. i think i was probably the very last generation of kids to get ANY of that stuff unless they went to an exceptional school, and it was only because my 8th grade teacher knew it was important and went against school admin's instructions in order to teach it. the couple days of sentence diagramming and grammar he gave us, out of SPITE, have been more useful to me in reading and writing than the entire rest of primary english education i received in public school, and i didn't even go to a school that had adopted three-cueing stuff yet.

[tgcg]

an open fly walking

i didnt like this one but i thought id finally air it out since its been sat in my folders for months now

TG: hey karkat

CG: YEAH?

===

TG: you ever noticed you like

TG: walk weird

CG: WOW, OKAY.

CG: HAVE *YOU* EVER NOTICED THAT I DON'T GIVE A SHIT?

TG: pff

===

TG: no listen because i got my ears scoping that shit im like a scouter for dude activity

TG: ok maybe me mentioning it to you is gonna fuck up your ecosystem or something but

TG: you have the heaviest feet of the century man

CG: I DO???

TG: just thrust them straight down into the ground like youre trying to homebrew a san andreas fault

TG: viciously tamping on tectonic plates hoping for top score on the richter scale

TG: waging war against solid particles and the basic flow of gravity

TG: i could ID those footfalls out of a million i mean it

CG: SERIOUSLY?

===

TG: i mean theres nothing wrong with it but

TG: yeah

CG: I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU'RE FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW.

TG: im not fucking with you striders honor

TG: when have i ever lied to anybody about anything

CG: NOT UNPACKING THAT QUESTION WITH YOU TODAY.

CG: BUT SHIT, HOLD ON. LET ME SEE.

TG: yeah take the umbrella go over there and just walk to me

CG: ON IT.

===

===

TG: see you just kinda slam em straight down dude

CG: THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY RIOTOUS FUCKING JOKE OF A LIFE.

TG: dont your feet ache

===

CG: MOOT POINT. THIS MIGHT SOUND INSANE BUT I'VE ACTUALLY HAD MY STRUT PODS FOR A WHILE. ANY KIND OF PAIN THIS WOULD'VE BEEN CAUSING WOULD BE TOTALLY FILTERED OUT OF MY SPONGE BY NOW AS BACKGROUND NOISE.

TG: damn i didnt think that through

TG: my shades

CG: ALRIGHT, GET BACK UNDER THE SHITTING UMBRELLA AND THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME.

TG: look ive fucked myself over here too i dont have shit to clean these with

TG: ugh

===

TG: guess its karma

CG: HOLY FUCK. HOW DID I NEVER NOTICE THIS BEFORE?

TG: i dunno but im gonna assume having a dad thats a literal crab monster is probably a contributing factor

TG: im guessing thats not a great role model for this kinda thing

TG: just conjecture i mean

CG: YOUR ENVY IS OVERWHELMINGLY OBVIOUS DAVE. AS A DISCLAIMER, HE WOULD'VE ABSOLUTELY KICKED YOUR ASS.

TG: yeah probably

CG: THAT'S PRETTY MUCH ALL THERE IS TO SAY ON THE MATTER.

===

TG: but see bro had me stringent on feather feets

TG: i bet i could slip across a bike horn warehouse with nary a fucking toot

CG: HAHA. ASSUMING YOU DON'T MAKE A TOTAL ASS OF YOURSELF, AS PER USUAL.

CG: IF YOU WEREN'T CONSTANTLY RUNNING YOUR GASH ABOUT EVERYTHING AND BEING AN INIMITABLE CLOWN I SERIOUSLY THINK YOU COULD BE ON PAR WITH YOUR CUSTODIAN.

CG: THAT IS A MONUMENTAL "IF".

TG: well look at it this way

TG: im basically doing you all a favor by being a dumbass

TG: never gonna get caught off guard by the bozo patrol

CG: WOW. GOOD POINT.

===

TG: also screw this can i use your shirt

TG: this stupid hoodie is just smudging my lenses up

TG: i cant see dick

CG: UH

CG: SURE, I GUESS.

TG: cool

===

TG: so yeah i could be prowling around like a goddamn verbal assassin sniping convos left and right

TG: but no ive got the decency to go bunp in the night

CG: YEAH.

CG: IT'S DEFINITELY COMPOUNDED BY THE CONSTANT INANE RAMBLINGS.

CG: BUT

CG: IT'S ACTUALLY PRETTY RELAXING, Y'KNOW? IT HAS ITS OWN RHYTHM.

TG: see yeah i sound it off and

===

TG: wait really?

CG: YEAH

CG: I DON'T KNOW

CG: FUCK. HOW DO I EXPLAIN THIS WITHOUT WANTING TO CRAM MY FROND DOWN MY PROTEIN CHUTE.

===

CG: IT'S LIKE

CG: A SALVE FOR MY AGGRAVATION SPONGE.

CG: YOUR VOICE IS THE HUMAN EQUIVALENT OF ASPIRIN.

TG: uh damn karkat hold your hoofbeasts i was talking about the rhythm thing

CG: ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT. I'M TAKING US BOTH THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW. YOU HAVE REACHED THE BAD END OF THIS CONVERSATION.

TG: you think thatd be heroic or just

CG: IF I WAS STILL GHOSTING AROUND THE RUINS OF SGRUB'S ARCANE FRIGGIN GAME SYSTEMS, THE COMPLETE LACK OF SHIT AFOOT NOWADAYS WOULD BORE ME TO DEATH.

CG: LIKE. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME OUR THERMAL HULL LEVELLED UP, DAVE?

TG: hah

===

TG: but uh

TG: i mean we had aspirin on earth

CG: NO, NUMBNUBS.

CG: I'M SAYING YOU ARE MY ASPIRIN.

TG: oh

CG: YEAH, TAKE THAT TO THE BANK AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR 20-KARAT ASS.

===

TG: heh

TG: well get this

TG: i will literally talk at you forever for free

TG: you got lifetime priority seating for the davealogues

TG: never gotta go to the drugstore again you can just get doped up on my dulcet tones for the rest of time

TG: take that and some of this

TG: im packin punches

CG: OW, FUCK! NO! MY MIGRAINES!

CG: SWEEPS OF VEINCLOTTING AND NERVEFRAYING DOWN THE FUCKING GAPER. BECAUSE OF YOU.

CG: YOU ASSHOLE, THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.

CG: AND YOU'RE LAUGHING.

TG: chuckle up it only gets worse from here

===

CG: BE HONEST WITH ME. DID FONDLING MY SHIRT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET EVEN DO ANYTHING?

TG: barely but yknow sometimes you just gotta deal the cards youre given

TG: ill just be astigmatic for a while its cool

CG: PFF… OKAY MAN.

[anguilliforme]

sorry guys big week for me, patron of the arts

[sporesgalaxy]

now im no big city music theorist so i cant explain shit. but to me the insane thing about "HEY EVERY !" being spamton and tenna's shared motif is that like,

when you first hear it, it sounds pretty blatantly incomplete. I think because of the rest at the end of the melody. but that fits with the first impression of spamton being a weird repetetive guy who speaks like a ransom letter made out of cut up magazines. but the way it just loops without changing really drives home the feeling that its a clip of something more.

and then when it plays again for "A Real Boy!" it sounds like it might be closer to complete this time, even though it's cut short by spamton's defeat. at least it changes key to give it some sense of progression. But it still has that weird rest at the end of the main melody, in a spot where you might expect a note.

And then you hear Tenna's Fucking Intro Jingle at the very end of his long preamble ramble.

You mean to tell me......you mean to tell me that Tenna had to be the one to complete it? To sing the final note? That Spamton introduced us to "his" melody that had this gaping hole in it..........and then we meet Tenna, and he.......... has the note that fills that emptiness. in his version of the melody. He completes Spamton. 's melody.

What is WRONG WITH THESE TWO FUCKING GUYS. ARE THEY STUPID????

[kxsagi]

hiiii!!!!! uve got me thinking about isagi and his thigh obsession againnn

thinking about reader who has a habit of tapping her leg when shes nervous, and dear sweet isagi knows he should be a good bf and calm her down but he just cant help but notice the way her thigh jiggles a bit and its killing him inside🙈🙈

“𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲”

a/n: i listened to raunchy music while writing this + i love how canon it is that isagi has a thigh fetish like he’s so real for that

(header art credits go to bird_sujiko48)

you’re nervous. isagi can tell the second he glances over at you. it’s not the way your breathing quickens slightly or how your fingers fidget with the hem of your sleeve. it’s the tapping. that subtle, repetitive bounce of your leg that gives you away every time. 

you probably don’t even notice you’re doing it. your thigh is just moving on autopilot, bouncing lightly against the edge of the couch as you chew on your bottom lip, lost in your own anxious thoughts. 

and dear sweet isagi, bless him, knows he should be a good boyfriend right now. he really, really should. he should lean over and softly take your hand, or brush his thumb across your knuckles, or murmur a quiet, reassuring, “hey, i’m right here.” 

but he’s not doing any of that. 

no, because the only thing his dumb brain can focus on is the way your thigh jiggles ever so slightly with each tap. 

he’s staring. blatantly. like a man who hasn’t eaten in weeks and just spotted a buffet. his eyes are locked on the movement – on the soft ripple with every bounce, the rhythmic sway that makes his fingers twitch against his knee. his mouth goes dry, and it’s embarrassing how quickly he forgets whatever serious thought he was about to say. 

his jaw clenches slightly as his eyes stay glued to your thigh. the plushness of it, the way it moves without you even realizing it, the innocent jiggle that has him gripping his own jeans just to stop himself from reaching out. 

you sigh, still anxious, still tapping, completely oblivious to the effect it’s having on him. he’s supposed to be comforting you, not staring at you like you’re something he wants to sink his teeth into. 

but then you switch positions. you shift slightly, pulling one leg over the other, and the action makes your thigh press firmly against the top of the other, squishing just the slightest bit. 

isagi makes a sound. not a normal sound. something low and guttural that slips out before he can stop it. you glance at him, blinking in confusion. 

“what?” you ask, your voice soft, your knee still bouncing slightly. 

he should say, “nothing.” he should. he really should. but instead, he blurts out, “can you stop doing that?” 

your leg stills immediately, eyes flicking to him with a flash of guilt. “oh, sorry,” you mumble, immediately assuming you were annoying him with your anxious habit. 

his eyes widen slightly. shit. that’s not what he meant. at all. 

“no, no, no,” he rushes to say, grabbing your hand before you can completely withdraw. “i didn’t mean –” his voice dies in his throat. how is he supposed to explain himself? how is he supposed to tell you that you’re driving him insane because of the sheer audacity of your thighs jiggling like that? 

he glances down at your legs, cursing his inability to think like a normal human being. when he looks back up at you, you’re frowning slightly, your gaze questioning. 

“… what did you mean then?” you ask, blinking at him with genuine confusion. 

isagi exhales sharply through his nose, running a hand down his face. he’s going to hell. you’re sitting there, all anxious and sweet, and here he is, having feral thoughts over the fact that your thighs are committing a crime against him. 

after a long pause, he mutters under his breath, “you’re making it really hard to be a good boyfriend right now.” 

you blink. then you tilt your head slightly, processing. “wait, what?” 

he groans softly and buries his face in his hand, voice muffled. “you were bouncing your leg.” 

“yeah…?” you still look confused. 

his fingers drag down his face before he finally looks at you again, eyes darker now, exasperation written all over his features. “and i could see your thigh. jiggling.” 

you stare at him. his tone is dead serious. he looks genuinely frustrated, like the whole ordeal was physically painful for him. 

“… are you kidding me?” you say flatly. 

he gives you a helpless, vaguely sheepish shrug, but his eyes betray him – dark and heated with that barely restrained hunger. his fingers flex slightly against your hand, like he’s fighting the urge to just grab you and crush you against him. 

you blink a few times, processing the situation. then with slow, deliberate mischief, you uncross your legs. you lean back against the couch slightly, shifting in place, and then you start tapping your leg again. 

just to mess with him. 

isagi’s eyes immediately darken. his jaw flexes slightly, fingers twitching as they dig into his knee. you can see the way he stares, unblinking, at the way your thigh bounces against the couch cushion. 

his lips part slightly, chest rising and falling with the effort it takes to sit still. he swallows once, then narrows his eyes at you. “you’re gonna regret that,” he murmurs, voice low and dangerous. 

you give him the most innocent look you can muster. “regret what?” you ask sweetly, tapping your leg even faster, the movement making your thigh tremble slightly. 

and just like that, isagi’s restraint snaps. 

in the next second, you yelp softly as he suddenly grabs you by the waist and hauls you into his lap with zero warning. his arms lock around you, a low growl rumbling from the back of his throat. he squeezes your thighs slightly, deliberately, shamelessly, as if making sure you know exactly how much trouble you’re in. 

“you think you’re funny, huh?” he mutters against your ear, voice rough, his fingers sinking into your thighs as you squirm slightly in his grip. his hands flex just enough to make your breath catch. 

you wiggle slightly, still pretending to be oblivious. “hm? what are you talking about? i’m –” 

he cuts you off with a deliberate squeeze to your thigh, his biceps tightening around you, caging you in completely. you can feel the slight shake of his breath against your skin, his fingers flexing possessively against you. 

“yeah, no,” he rasps lowly, voice thick with exasperation and something far darker. he leans down, lips brushing your ear, and smirks when you shiver slightly. 

“you’re not getting away with that.”

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[cheriladycl01]

Can you do a cute one shot please where reader gets drunk and she’s a super lovey and cute drunk and just wants cuddles with Max or Lando please?? Love 🍷 anon who is deffo not drunk and crying over max edits 🥰🥰

Drunk in Love - Lando Norris x Drunk Reader x Max Verstappen

Plot: Your were drinking for England after your first podium. To the point where you can’t tell the difference between your boyfriend Lando Norris and team-mate Max Verstappen.

Warning: Throwing up, General drunkenness.

A/N: This request was hard to choose whether i wanted it centered around Max or Lando, so i added Max being cutie.

You'd gotten your first podium and you were in a celebrating that in a London Club after the British GP. There was a load of drivers in the club with you including your boyfriend Lando Norris.

You were being offered drinks from pretty much everyone in the room, it was absolutely insane and you'd taken so many drinks without even thinking how much you'd had.

You vision was so blurry, and you were at the point where being this intoxicated was scaring you and you just wanted to get back to your apartment that you kept in London while Lando had the Monaco apartment.

"Lan!" you cry looking up at who you thought was your boyfriend because of the shirt he was wearing. It the shape, same colour and same material when you leaned in to touch it as what Lando was wearing.

Your vision was beyond fucked and you couldn't even make out your boyfriends beautiful face.

"Baby!" you cried at him, tugging him towards you, your eyes blurring more with tears as you struggle to get his attention. The body turns round, and Max is now looking down at his friends very drunk state.

"Y/N?" he asks looking over at you bending down.

"Lan, please baby. I love you but I want to go home!" you say nuzzling into his neck and wrapping your arms around his middle.

"Oh-erm Y/N" Max tries but because of how loud the club is your drunk self cant even tell that it's Max and his Dutch accent that is talking to you and trying to pry you off of him.

"Why are you trying to get me to let go! You love cuddles!" you pout looking down.

"Do you not love me anymore?" you gasp before sobs start to rack through your body at the thought of Lando, the love of your life no longer wanting to be with you.

"Hey, Hey shush!" Max comforts you, pulling you in for a hug and brushing you hair with his hand in a polite manner. You nuzzle into the hug, and you started to feel strange, this didn't feel like a Lando hug, it didn't feel like your Lando full stop.

This body was taller, but not as built as Lando. It didn't feel right. And you couldn't help but wonder who on earth this imposter was.

Max was asking around him, trying to get Charles and Carlos to find where Oscar, Logan and Lando had all wondered off to away from you.

"You are my boyfriend! WHO ARE YOU?" you ask your eyes squiting to try have a better look at the man in front of you.

"Y/N it's me Max!" he smiles kindly putting his hand on your upper arm to steady you as he can see your swaying.

"I want Lando, please get Lando!" you ask with little gasps of breath, sounding like hiccups while you try to catch you breathe a little.

"Carlos has gone looking for him, look come sit down here next to Charlie and Daniel, i'll go help Carlos!" Max says leading you next to Charles who moves over a little in the booth to give you room to get in.

You sit there quietly waiting for Lando's return.

Max was practically running round the club, looking to spy Lando or even Carlos so they could team up and look for the trio together.

After looking he finds them out on the balcony looking down at the busy London street below.

"Lando!" Max shouts making all their heads snap round.

"What's up?" Lando asks putting his drink down making it clink on the glass of the table.

"It's Y/N she's like ... I've never seen her this drunk before. She didn't even know I was me, she thought i was you!" he explains and Lando looks between Oscar and Logan with a shocked look.

"We left her for what... like half an hour!" Lando sighs before following Max back inside leaving Oscar and Logan to their own devices out on the balcony.

"Baby?" Lando asks tentatively, seeing you slouched against Charles.

"Lan!" you exclaim, jumping up and launching yourself at him. You hug him and he wraps you into a familiar warm bear hug and you know that it's him now.

"There's MY Lan!" you smile, nuzzling into him. He kisses your forehead before pulling you back and bending down to your level to look over your face. He could see how spacey your eyes look and that it's for sure about time you should be leaving.

"Come on baby lets go!" he smiles and you shake your head with a soft whine.

"My feet hurt so much" you say groggily and he cant help but laugh at the little pouty expression on his face.

"That's okay, I can carry you baby" he smiles and lifts you up as though you were the weight of a feather. He carries you bridle style all the way back to your apartment which was actually on a 15 minute walk through London.

"I love you so much! I'm sorry about tonight!" you sighed at him, not enjoying filming guilty for making him leave this early.

"Why are you sorry darling!" he laughs as he places you down in the now moving elevator of your apartment building.

"Because i made you leave early from the fun because I don't feel well!" you pout, grabbing his arm and hugging it close against you. He just smiles down at you. You were normally very affectionate anyway but drunk you was very clingy and needy.

Not that Lando minded, he actually loved it.

"Come on baby, it's bed time for the both of us. No need to feel guilty, I was kinda wanting to come back for a nice cuddle session with you anyway!" he grins and you then look down.

"Shower!" you complain looking at him as the lift doors open to your pent house. He carries you straight through to the bathroom, you collapse to your knees throwing up all the contents from that night.

Tears brim your eyes hating the sensation, while Lando rubs your back soothingly trying to help make sure you can breath.

"Okay, lets wash this down and then get you in there to clean up yeah hunny?" he smiles at you, grabbing the shower head down and turning the water on washing the sick from the floor of the shower down the drain until its gone. He helps you step in undressing you, then himself.

He helps you shower, not trusting you alone in the shower by yourself in this state before drying you off and brushing you teeth for you.

You both snuggle up in the big bed, you cuddling into him playing with his curls.

"I love you!" you whispers looking up at his expression.

"I love you more" he smiles placing a kiss on your lips before turning the lights off with the remote and laying his head back to sleep.

Taglist:

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