#they got my backs frfr

[princeyam]

hairstyles

[cryptidlurkingindacorner]

They added a wedding ring to his last finger on his third hand awww, cheers to him and zerum yay yippee :]

[petorahs]

shuake rite of passage is like. spending most of the entire game going 😐🤨🤔😳 at their banter/flirting/dates. being intrigued when the normally silent protagonist exclaims a heated "this isn't 'trivial'!" about his one and only rival's life, completely independent of player input. accepting the undeniable fact that 'our light' is basically a love song from protag's point of view to said rival. finding out about proof of justice ova. watching proof of justice ova. watching proof of justice ova again. going insane at the fact that the normally silent protag who never cries, cried over their rival in public. the fact that he was thinking about him before bed. realizing the one active, 'selfish' choice and wish protag had always involved his fated rival in some way, again completely independent from player's views on said rival.

and then becoming lucid for one second and finding out you just dug yourself into a shuake rabbit hole and theres no getting out

[immamapletreekid]

...haikyuu osts ;_;

[fluffyk97]

When I started playing the new Final Horizon update I was expecting pure fun playing as Amy, Knuckles and Tails all while getting new story and a better final boss.... I wasn't expecting I was signing up for extra hard mode that made me feel very drained despite my setting being clearly set to normal difficulty.

[vote-loki]

Anyway for my first good wife post I will be posting this text I received in the middle of calling a trauma level one at my job 😭😭😭

[silentium-symphony]

care to tell us more about pigeons >:) ?

omfg i thought you'd never ask >:)

for thousands and thousands of years, pigeons have been at humanity's side as messengers, beloved pets, and holy symbols. going back to the messenger thing, pigeons had been used extensively during the World Wars to communicate between different battle fronts. i highly recommend reading up on the story of Cher Ami, the most decorated homing pigeon in U.S. history who saved a battalion of almost 200 men during WWI.

BUT ANYWAYS, for the longest time pigeons were beloved companions to people in one way or another. but technological advancements and societal/cultural shifts meant shunting away the old, leading to the release/escape of so many pigeons. many had their lofts torn down, leaving them to fend for themselves when they had relied on humans for so long.

ofc, nature always finds a way and they were able to survive without humans directly helping them, but bc of their history, close proximity to civilization was inevitable. pigeons became 'nuisances' for just trying to survive in major metropolitan areas.

we literally BRED THEM TO BE COMFORTABLE WITH HUMANS. and now we despise them, abandoned them in every sense of the word--cast them off as nothing but dirty pests that should be culled.

disease transmission is def a concern, but it's quite rare for individuals to contract them--the only people who are at risk are those who have a compromised immune system.

and yes they do poop everywhere, i can see how that would be annoying, but they're birds. birds. you can't get mad at them for carrying out natural biological processes.

SO IN CONCLUSION, these once beloved birds who have played significant roles in the cultures of long-forgotten empires and thriving modern civilizations, these intelligent birds who have served as humanity's communication system since FOREVER, these gorgeous birds bred for their beauty and grace and represent a universal symbol of peace, are considered ugly vermin--rats with wings--bc they dare live within our human spaces even though we've purposely bred them to. after we have grown tired of them. after we had no more use for them.

these once celebrated, cherished birds forced to make nests out of screws and nails.

[autumn-applepie]

This was probably the worst trip back to my parents house ever but like, I just thought of something. When me and my dad fought, the computer was on and we were fighting in front on the computer...

I'm going to be very stupid (mainly because I'm desperately trying to keep my sanity intact), but it just makes me somewhat giggle that Kinito would've definitely killed my deadbeat dad after witnessing that scene, would've been awesome

[idkawhumpatall]

i see youre hypothermia-ing?

I very much am hehehe

[fat-psychward-sockgrippussy333]

Shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs that come up. Then copy/paste this ask to your favorite mutuals. 💌💜

[starwritesstuff]

one shot Leon x reader

rating: explicit‼️‼️‼️ so explicit. i am going 2 hell y’all. tw: guns, gun play. it’s safe tho, no bullets, no threat

word count: uhhh somewhere in the 3.5k range

obligatory no minors or i’m drop kicking ur asses

•—•—•—•—•—•

Occasionally you get to work with Leon S. Kennedy. Occasionally. He’s normally a solo op- something he enjoys spitting through clenched teeth at anyone who suggests he take a team, or a partner. Occasionally, Leon doesn’t get what he wants. 

For you, it just means hours long missions that are filled with irritated little grunts, tersely snapped commands, and little else. It’s alright. Government agencies, terrorist cells, etc, etc. There are worse things than working with a petulant child of a partner. 

The one good thing about working with Kennedy, you suppose, is watching him handle his guns. God is that man good with his guns. The quickness, the gracefulness of which he’s able to point, shoot, reload. You could wax poetic. In fact, sitting here with him, currently watching him check his chamber, you just might. Wax poetic, that is. 

You watch him turn the gun over in his hands- dirt caked under his nails and god knows what else- perform that stupid, stupid one handed press check. It’s showing off, you think, it has to be. That’s a dumb skill to learn. Yeah, yeah good for when you need to wield two guns at once but Christ. It’s not like that’s happening right now. 

Leon glances up, catches you staring. His brows pull low over his nose, knit close together. 

“You look downright pouty, Kennedy, what’s wrong?” You say, uncrossing your legs. Wincing a bit as blood flow rushes back, pinpricks tingling down your calves. He slides his eyes back over to his gun. Shifts its weight in his gloved hand. 

“Haven’t heard shit. Why haven’t we heard shit?” He mutters quietly. It’s a good question- the intel you received was that BOWs had been a heavy presence in this particular village. Remnants of Los Illuminados. Loathe to send Leon back in by himself, DSO had sent you in with him. Better weapons, too. You pat your H&K P8, settled in your holster. 

You shift around some more, boots creaking, sounding like bullets in the quiet of the basement. 

“You’re gonna jinx it. Can’t talk about that shit on an op like this.” You settle for joking, though you’re just about as uneasy as he is. Leon cuts his gaze over to the left- where the door is. You follow the movement, shake your head at him. 

“Wait. We can’t go anywhere yet. You know that, wait for base command.” It’s a weak excuse, as reasons go. Base command rarely ever knew more than whoever was on the mission. 

Leon snorts. But he stays where he is. Pulls out a different gun, his beloved Matilda. You’ve gotta admit- the damn thing looked near brand new, despite being one of his first guns. Thunks his head against the wall he’s sitting up against. 

This was maybe your third, fourth mission with him. You get picked often because you don’t rise to his bait. Calm and steadfast, you’re one of the few that can play well with Leon Kennedy. Mostly. And you’re knowledgeable, an encyclopedia practically. Your background in combat medicine, and not to mention medical sciences, gives you an edge over most environments, able to find, forage and mix together healing plants, to know your surroundings. 

You watch him take apart his gun. Watch those nimble fingers fly over the parts and components and put it back together again. Watch him take a light, two fingered grip on the muzzle. Slide, clink, release. You thunk your own head against the wall. 

See- the problem isn’t so much that Leon is annoying, ill-tempered, aggravating. It’s that he’s unnervingly attractive. You could deal with his bad attitude if you didn’t often find yourself fantasizing about his rough jeans against your bare legs. A glove covered hand over your mouth. 

You turn your head away, press your hot cheek against the cool concrete of the wall. Thank god for dim lighting because you know under your freckles, there’s a traitorous blush. Always with the blushing. To add insult, your ears flame, too. 

“You don’t look so good over there.” Calls Leon from across the room. You resolutely don’t look at him. Grapple for that calm you’re supposed to be known for. 

“Just getting anxious.” Your voice comes out a little more warbled than you would have liked but hey- you sound relatively stout. You think. 

You hear another snort. Chance a glance over. Leon isn’t looking at you, still fucking with his gun. Christ. Has it always been this hot? Your thermal feels a little tight, itching at your neck where the collar of the mock neck sits. You curl your hands into fists on your lap. Refuse to pull a cliche move like tugging your collar. 

You hear a little clattering. Leon is fucking with his chamber again. Spitting the bullets out. Another slide, clink, release. 

“You might need those, you know.” At your voice, Leon looks up. You’re not sure if it’s the low lighting, but you swear you see something… wolfish flit in and out of his gaze. He shrugs easily. Jingles the bullets in his hand. 

“At the moment, likely not. Haven’t heard anything, comms are silent. Shit I’d say this is almost a break.” His lips quirk up in a little grin. You shake your head again. Pull your hair out from its braid. Suppressing a relieved sigh, you massage your scalp. One of these days you’ll choose a less punishing hairstyle. 

You’ve taken off most of your combat gear, favoring the BDUs and your thermal for the heat. Leon’s right- neither of you are going anywhere any time soon. You idly wonder if he’ll call the mission. 

You don’t hear steps, but you do see black boots stop in your field of vision from where you’re looking down, engrossed in rubbing the sore muscles in your neck. 

“Fuck Leon, ever heard of making at least a little noise?” He plops down next to you. Close. You can feel his body heat. 

“Good to know I’ve still got it.” He pulls himself into a casual slouch, turns his body to face you. Holding Matilda, index finger pressed along the underside of the muzzle. 

“Should keep your hair up. Long hair like that is easy to grab for an enemy.” He sounds a lot closer than he feels. You throw an elbow. Connect with his hand- damned fingerless gloves you were just thinking about. 

What is it about that that just… does you in? 

“Shut up, you said it yourself. We’re stuck here for a bit. If you can empty your gun, I can get a few moments reprieve from an ugly hairstyle.” You retort. It’s probably the warmth, his proximity, the fact that you’re sexually repressed and haven’t gotten laid in more months than you’d like to admit, but your patience was scraping raw. 

He whistles, low. “Bug up your ass?” You side eye him. “Hardly.” 

He swings Matilda on his finger. You try not to watch. You don’t think you do a very good job, though. Because he grins- and it’s a sharp thing. Makes your breath catch, just a little. 

He looks at you like maybe he heard it. 

He probably did.

That sharp grin widens. You feel… a bit like prey. What you imagine prey might feel like, anyways. In the low light, Leon’s eyes look nearly black, swallowed whole by his pupils. 

You lick your lips, point of your tongue darting out to sweep over your top lip. 

You’re a little over aware of everything, the gentle shwick-swing of the pistol, the heat coming off him, the sound of your own mouth when you dampen your lips. 

Could cut the air, you think. The tension.

You can see a distorted version of yourself in his eyes, wild eyed, spots high on your cheeks. Mouth spit-slick, slightly parted. You clamp your lips together, pressing them together hard. Try to look a little less fucked out- despite not even having been touched. 

“It’s a good thing you aren’t a spy.” Leon’s voice comes out grating, gravelly. “You’d make a shit spy.” 

His hand comes up, tangles itself in your recently freed hair. He drags your head back, over to him. He slants his pretty lips over yours, chastely almost. Before licking at your lips. Your breath puffs out; you immediately open up for him. He licks hot into your mouth, an easy, silken glide of his tongue over yours. Lazy. Languorous. 

A hand insinuates itself between the two of you, deftly unbuckles holster, belt, pants. Boom, boom, boom. Easy. Practiced. 

You feel cool metal slide up your cheek- he backs away from the kiss, presses the muzzle of that gun, fucking Matilda, against your lips. Still parted. Clacking against your front teeth. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you can’t hide for shit.” He grins his sharp grin again. 

“Leon-” is all you can really get out because he’s taken advantage of the way your mouth opens on his name. Pushes his gun, quickly, through the space between your lips. Fits it snugly behind your teeth. You taste steel. God, you think it’s steel. Is it titanium? Does it matter? 

“If I stuck my hand in those pants, what’ll I find?” You can’t answer him, he knows you can’t answer him. You can only stare. Hope you don’t start drooling. 

It’s fine, he’s not looking for an answer. Not a verbal one, anyways. 

He’s still got you pinned, back against the wall, legs splayed out in front of you. Leather and skin working, shoving past your loose pants. He smirks, you didn’t think that was a real thing- people smirking- but he does it. Glides a finger over slick, swollen skin. 

The metal in your mouth has warmed from you panting around it. 

“Every time I caught you looking at me I swear I wanted to bend you like a lawn chair” he rumbles, “and I don’t mean just this time. I mean every time I’ve worked with you.” 

Your heart gets stuck mid pump. Desperately tries to restart itself. 

“Every little furtive glance. And now look at you- drooling over my gun. Want it that bad, do you?” And you were, you did. A thin line of drool had dribbled down your chin. 

Your hands remain where they were- fisted tightly on either side of your hips. You could reach up, knock his hand down. But you won’t. 

Leon slides the muzzle slickly over your tongue, pushing it just a bit further in. 

“You be good and hold that for me, would you? Don’t. Drop. It.” Shoves it till your lips touch the trigger guard. You swallow hard, tilt your head back to let gravity help you. 

Both hands free now, he jerks your BDUs off, down your legs. Tangles them in your boots until he successfully gets those off, too. You whimper, a real whimper, when fresh air hits your soaking cunt. Close your eyes and clamp down hard on the gun in your mouth. 

Leon drags a hand up from your waist, belly, sternum. To your mouth and with a whispered, arrogant thanks he jerks it out, bits of metal sharply hitting your teeth. 

You decide that whatever energy you have, you won’t use it on lifting your head. You opt for surveying him through heavy lids, lashes down. Trying to remember how to breathe. 

He’s knelt between your obscenely spread legs, spit shining thick on Matilda. 

Your breath rasps in and out in your throat. Saliva caught at the back. You cough a little, try and clear it out. Leon gives you another smirk, another sharp and feral grin. 

“You’ve wetted it nicely for me.” Looks down, lip curling, “though I think I could’ve used it even without your spit.” 

Your lips form a question, but no real words come out because he’s fit the tip right at your, you swear, dripping hole. Twists so the grip faces up. 

“God you’re so wet. This is it, huh? Just a gun and you pant, make a mess of yourself.” It’s said through gritted teeth, but you welcome this kind of muffled, through-the-teeth talk. 

You’ve no energy for words either, focused solely on the thrumming tension. The skittering need that jumps over your skin. You’re vaguely aware that each sawing breath you take has a sweet little moan attached at the end. And that every time you sound that moan, Leon’s eyes go a little crazy. Blinking, jumping to your mouth, ping-ponging between the lips between your legs and the lips on your face. 

You try hard to stay still. To keep your hips from bucking. But he teases your entrances, tip of his tongue poking out just so, looking terribly concentrated. Keeps a steady hand on your thigh, just above your knee. 

You think- rethink- the whole no words thing. Maybe you will beg. Say something- anything. You want to be filled, stuffed until you can’t breathe. 

Leon’s eyes flash to yours and with a little controlled jerk of his forearm, he pushes the muzzle into your cunt. Your mouth falls open on an aborted breath in. Lungs seemingly have forgotten to inflate properly. 

The edges of the blunt metal catch, gentle, on your slick, slippery walls. Leon twists his wrist. Watches with rapt attention at how you moan with every sharp press into you. 

“Please…” you rasp. You’re not sure what you’re saying please to. But he smiles nonetheless. Increases his speed. 

“Bet I wouldn’t have to put my cock in you. I could have you cumming just solely on this, huh?” His voice cracks over the last word, though and you know he’s feeling just as affected as you. 

You nod mindlessly anyways. Though you want to relish in him sliding into you as easily as his gun; you can’t deny that he’s right. That you could cum on his pistol. 

“C’mon sweetheart, cum on my favorite gun so I can stuff you with my cock.” This gets a slew of curses out of you, back arching, rolling your hips down.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl. Sweet, sweet girl. Gonna get you cum drunk. Cock drunk. Whatever comes first” Leon pants, sounds as mindless as you feel. “Christ you’re a needy little thing.” And you’re helpless but to nod best you can, and give him what he wants. Each sharp, rough push of the muzzle into your cunt brings you just a step closer to cumming. Eager to please, eager to do as he says. 

And with a little drag of his wrist, and the slightest touch to your clit, you’re off. 

“Shit-“ has your voice always been this high? Needy and breathless? “Leon, Leon, Leon. Please-“ He doesn’t say anything, just lets you ride it out. 

You hear his gun clatter to the floor before he’s on you. Flipping you, placing your hands on the wall. His nose presses close to your hair, “hold yourself up on the wall, darling” in a tight voice. 

His movements were feverish, quick. He settles you in a nice arch, ass tilted up. He smooths a hand down your salt slicked spine, pushes your hair over your shoulder.

“I’ll come back to that later.” You hear him mutter to himself. 

His fingers bruise themselves into the fat on your hips, maybe into your bones. He knocks your knees apart with his; you’ll have scrapes later. Marks. 

He doesn’t bother slicking himself up- there’s no need, not really. Not when your cunt is very nearly dribbling onto the floor. 

Leon spreads your ass cheeks with both hands; does he ever fucking take those gloves off. He grips hard. Fingers sinking into soft skin.

You’re still moaning, still scrabbling at the wall with your hands. Though they keep sliding down, palms as sweat slicked as yours are. 

In one smooth motion, he buries himself, immediately bottoms out. His chest touches your back and his weight nearly crashes you off your, admittedly, precarious hold on the wall. 

You don’t think you’re going to survive this. 

He sets a brutal pace, cock sliding hot and thick, in and out of your hole. You catch bits and pieces of: “god you’re so tight, christ” and “everything I thought about. You take it so good- so well”. Who knew Leon was such a whiner when he fucks? Each phrase lilting at the end. 

He slams into you, releases a cheek to curl his fingers at the base of your head. Jerking your hair, pulling your back flush with his front. He lays your head on his shoulder, keeps it there. Puts his lips to your ear. You hear short, forceful gasps, little moans. He wasn’t quiet. 

He keeps a hand steady on your hip, every thrust punching out breathless moans. 

“Leon-” seems to be the only thing you can say. 

His lips move at your ear, stirring the smaller hairs. “Yeah baby girl? Gonna cum for me again? Give my cock the same treatment you gave my gun?” On the word gun, he pulls his hips back to sharply snap back forward. His free arm winds around you. 

“Oh poor thing, you can barely hold yourself up.” High, desperate. “Pathetic. Never seen a woman drive herself up a wall over a fucking gun.” 

You whine, feeling a familiar coil build low in your gut. 

“God almost jealous over my own gun, feeling you clench on me. You gonna cum again? Squeeze my cock real nice with your pussy. Let me feel it, darling.” Leon’s hoarse voice whispers and it feels like a benediction. Sounds like God himself. 

His hips don’t stutter- keeps the same relentless pace. Slapping into you, each wet squelch sending you closer and closer to the edge. 

You try your best to meet his thrusts, but you know you’re sloppy. Miss a beat every few slams. You clutch at his arm around your waist. 

“So loud, so perfect.” He pants. “Don’t let- don’t let anyone else hear this. Just for me, let it be only for me.” You would promise him the world in your palm if you could right now. 

His hand slides down to circle your clit. You might cry. 

“Too much- please. God.” You finally get out, sagging against his arm.

“Not enough.” He grunts, fingers skating over you, adding more pressure. 

“God. Fuck. Leon- stop. I’m gonna… gonna-” but you can’t finish your thought. He pounds you harder. You think with a quick flash of embarrassment- you’re gonna make a mess on him. 

“Do it, c’mon darling, I know you wanna cum. I can feel it. That pussy’s so tight, greedy. Practically fucking yourself on me-” 

You feel all that pressure, a mixture of pleasure and pain release. Built to an all consuming peak. Hot and gushy, you cum. Feel slickness slide down the inside of your thighs. 

“Yessss..” Leon hisses. “Just like that. Good girl. Let me- let me fuck you through it. So good.” You’re exhausted, spent. Almost too oversensitive. Leon’s cock a bruising force, pushing into you, slapping hard. But he doesn’t let up. So focused on you. 

“Cunt squeezes so tight when you cum. Fuck.” The slapping of his hips against you starts to stutter, becoming inconsistent. He isn’t going to last much longer. 

“Leon- Leon please. Wanna feel you. Please- you, you made me cum so good. Use me, want you to feel just as good.” You mumble through swollen, numb lips. He bites down on your shoulder. Presses you against the wall. You wince against the feel of his teeth in your skin but it feels good. A good kind of hurt. 

He groans, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel it swell. 

“Fuck-” Leon whines out loudly. Slams full hilt into you. “God.” The breath he takes in is shaky. Another touch of warmth gushes between your thighs. Fuck, you’re a mess. 

Leon uses the arm wrapped around your waist to tug you tight against him, to fall back on him, cock still in you. Pillows his head on your discarded clothing, your head on his shoulder. 

You lay there a moment, trying to catch your breath.

“Next time- next time I wanna see your pretty lips around my cock.” Leon tugs your chin, turns you to properly face him. His softening cock slips out of you, and so does more warmth. More of his cum. 

“Jesus Leon, can I catch my breath first?” You ask, watch his face take on just a little bit of a predatory glint. He squeezes you. 

“Why don’t we get you, and I, cleaned up. Figure this situation out.” 

Neither of you even know if base ever tried to contact you. Comms had been thrown to the ground with the rest of your shit.

You grin, trace his lips with your fingers. “Sounds good to me.” 

[crvstybowlofcereal]

this is a really specific vent(?) post. im processing things by putting them in words. its not serious, feel free to ignore me lol

i just want to say that a couple years ago when i was in the beginning stages of researching autism (and would soon realize i am most likely autistic) i was in a relationship. and communication in a relationship is So Very important to me. I would constantly ask how he was (obviously it was more specific to whatever situation was going on) and he would always say he was fine. If I had even the Slightest hint that he wasn't actually Fine (like 19 times out of 20) i would continue asking if he was sure and if he wanted to talk, and he continued to say he was fine. half the time i assumed he meant it and i read the situation wrong, the other half of the time i assumed he didn't want to talk about it.

he ended up breaking up with me because i

"didn't pick up on some things"

"what kind of things?" i asked

"idk, just, things."

and he had been talking to my friend (U) about our relationship, and telling her that i wasn't picking up on things. she got mad at me and we had a "fight" for a short time, she thought i was being a bad partner, and her sister (M) (who is toxic and possessive) felt like i wasn't spending enough time with her, so she complained about it to their mom, who got mad at U for it for some reason? so U also brought all that up, telling me M felt left out. (i wasn't leaving M out of anything, i was sitting with my partner at lunch half of the time, she was welcome to join, but didnt, looking back i think M has RSD and maybe i should have been more direct when moving to a new location to explicitly invite her) (U was also not in school at the time due to covid, so its not like i was spending more time with her over M, which is something M would get so upset about if she perceived it to be that way [she was incredibly possessive of me as a friend and the extent of it made me feel like an object tbh])

U never brought up the issues my partner talked about, because that's how we are, we don't make it known someone was venting to us, to respect their privacy, but it fueled her emotions during our "argument" so i really only heard her being mad at me for not including M, (which i later learned is because M's emotions were made to be her problem when they shouldn't have, this has been a running problem so it wasnt that surprising to learn) so i started spending more time with M, but it was school, and i had work, so schedules only allowed so much time, and any time I was with M (lunch and one class) was when i was also with my partner, but i had other classes with him so i assumed it was fine, but he started drifting away (also around a time i attempted to communicate something important about our relationship, which ended up making him uncomfortable, but he didn't say anything about it until we had a conversation after breaking up)

i was stuck in a place where i felt like no one around me communicated how they felt and still expected me to understand them and do what they wanted me to do

U and i recently reflected on this and realized my ex was a shitty communicator (he and his next partner also broke up because he didn't say how he felt and expected them [also most likely autistic] to... just kinda know ig?) and that she should have gotten my side of the story (she had no idea i was frequently checking on him and trying to get him to talk to me)

and that she wasnt actually upset at me about M, she was upset that people were making it her problem, and she was especially upset during this reflection to learn that M was not being left out at all, she was just doing That Thing again where she wanted me to be Her friend and Only Her friend.

U AND I ARE NOT MAD AT EACH OTHER FOR ANY OF THIS, I WAS NEVER MAD AT U AND U WAS ONLY MAD ABOUT HER PERCEPTION OF THE SITUATION, AND ONLY FOR A SHORT AMOUNT OF TIME, EVERYTHING IS FINE

so basically i went like a year and a half thinking that people were rightfully mad at me and i was too self absorbed to pay attention to other peoples' emotions and i started learning how to read people again (clearly my body language research from middle school wasn't cutting it anymore) only for me to realize i just need people to be a little more direct that allistic people typically are, and those specific people were just being dogshit at communicating, (even for allistic people, relative to my needs)

anyways highschool post-covid was Really Fucking Weird and socially stressful for me

TL;DR reflecting on my communication needs not only not being met, but being far undershot for even a "normal" persons needs and how i was convinced I was the problem because of circumstances

[sapchats]

im so fucking funny like yougusy think im funny right

[cottagecryptic]

at work & feel like shit! lol

[starpros-sunshine]

the tempest cgs never get old do they <-filled with love

NO THEY DO NOT THEY ARE SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO <333333333 WAUGH <33333333 SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO GOOD Just. Come on they made Eichi look at Wataru Like That and they just expect me to be fine. Then they write the lyrics of their new solos Like That and just expect me to be fine.

[silvery-stars]

funniest coincidence of my whole life is currently haunting me