towerofanimus | 001 ♑ [first honk]

Entry tags:

001 ♑ [first honk]

Characters: OU Gamzee and you!
Setting: Room 1-02, the cafeteria, and anywhere in between!
Format: Either are entirely welcome.
Summary: A doped-up, alien clown awakens in the strangest of places - and decides that he's hungry. Seems like he's got a good handle on priorities. Oh, chocolate shenanigans are good, too, although he hasn't eaten any!
Warnings: None that I can think of, except for Gamzee's filthy mouth.

Room 1-02:
[Sometimes a body just doesn't want to get its motherfuckin' move on. That's cool, though. Whatever it feels like doing, or not doing, is all chill with him. It's not like he wouldn't be laying here motionless anyway. This sure was an uncomfortable way to wake up. The immobility didn't bother him as much as the hard, flat surface he'd been placed upon. It certainly wasn't a recuperacoon - a conclusion he'd only come to because of the depressing lack of sopor slime. It also wasn't his horn pile, which he'd become accustomed to sleeping in while in the Veil. Oh, well! Better not to dwell on such trivial things, and get back at enjoying this wicked nothingness. The crazy feel of paralysis was gone, however, and Gamzee Makara regained his motor skills.

After lamenting the loss of that dope not-moving shit, he rolled not-so-gracefully off of the bed, smacking his large horns on the nightstand and landing with a "thud" on the floor. He'd managed to knock some sheets of paper off of the nightstand on his way down.

Oh. They were letters.

Well, he'd already known Alternia had been destroyed, but he was thankful for whoever wrote the letter to have saved him! And everyone being happy sounded like a fucking awesome time! He wanted to meet the author of this letter - they sounded pretty motherfucking chill.

What wasn't chill was this super-tight jumpsuit he'd been placed in. Who even gets up in a brother's bubble like that? Not that it was a huge deal. He was pretty okay with sharing his personal space, really. He crawled over to the trunk the letter had mentioned, and beamed excitedly when he saw what was inside. Among his usual clothes, which he quickly donned, he proceeded to overturn the chest, spilling bike horns, juggling clubs, and slime all over the floor. This was starting to feel more familiar already!

Eating the slime was not something he probably should have done, but who in their right mind would take an oatmeal-only rule seriously? Better yet, who not in their right mind would even notice that there was an oatmeal-only rule?

Uh-oh. The ol' nutrition sack wasn't feeling too well. In a fit of desperation, he scrambled out of the room and down the hallway.]

Cafeteria:
[After getting situated in his room and having had quite the terrible feeling in his stomach, Gamzee had somehow found his way to the cafeteria. It had taken a while, and he'd ended up going in circles, going into other people's rooms, going back into his own room, and generally unintentionally avoiding the place he'd been searching for.

He didn't really notice the bowl of oatmeal before him, and didn't remember how it got there, for that matter. What was this stuff? It was runny, sloppy, and slid over the edges of its bowl when he wobbled it from side to side (which he was doing quite enthusiastically). It reminded him of a discolored sopor pie... kind of. Hopefully it wouldn't make his digestive sack feel like a bag of angry bees like the pie had, however. He frowned at the thought, momentarily pausing his bowl-spinning game to dip and swirl a few fingers around in the stuff cautiously. The table was full of oatmeal, as were his fingers, now. He was generally making a mess, all while wearing a stupid grin.]

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[He stops, putting a finger to his lip thoughtfully.]

Oh, uh... huh. Sorry, bro.

[He looks straight ahead, as if deep in contemplation. Probably not. Now shaking his head and scurrying after the Highblood again.]

That's cool, though, motherfucker! Not knowin' all the fuck about a surprise place be like, makin' it all what's more of a special fuckin' miracle when you all get up to be being at where a motherfucker's goin', right?

[The highblood keeps trekking onward, towards the stairs, making his way towards the 13th floor with the little indigo in tow. He doesn't answer the somewhat rhetorical question (though in Gamzee's case, all his questions might as well be rhetorical), but then he has a thought. A curiosity about a little something.]

And what would a little motherfucking barely-out-of-wrigglerhood troll be all knowing about miracles?

[His half-lidded eyes suddenly widen with excitement, and he turns to the Highblood eagerly, trying very hard to continue walking up the stairs while babbling endlessly again.]

You ain't gotta be knowin' all about them motherfuckers, br- er, Highblood. Bro. [HE CAN'T HELP IT HE HAS TO SNEAK IT IN. Hopefully unnoticed.] You just gotta all be believing at them! Feel those bitches in your fuckin' pusher, you know?

[He looks off, dreamily.]

They be motherfuckin' everwhere, b--. Uh. They be kickin' the wicked responsibility for every fuckin' happening what's everywhere around us, motherfucker! Big shit, small shit, don't matter. You get your see on at them bitches if a brother just open his lookstubs to them, for fuckin' sure! First felt 'em like, a looong fuckin' time ago, back home! Every motherfucker I went and got my noise on with, or even when there be no brothers or sisters what's want to split some words with a motherfucker, every little dude of sand on the beach, or how them bottles of Faygo like, fly out so damn far in the ocean! They'd go so fuckin' far, bro! [He forgot now, he's too worked up...] Or how them waves try to get at a brother's feet when he's all gettin' his wicked wait on at the shore! How come they don't get up what's further and get their harshness all up and rampant and swallow up every motherfucker? Miracles keep 'em in the ocean, bro. Miracles keep 'em in there, but a brother can always get his wade on in them if he need to, which is another fuckin' miracle such right in its motherfuckin' self! Honk!

[He stays quiet for a moment, it's obvious his spirits are infinitely lifted.]

Can feel 'em in this place, too. They gotta be here, you know? Else how I ever be at getting my meet on with you, motherfucker?

[He doesn't mind being called 'bro' so much. It's just when he starts mashing the title and the 'bro' together that he gets a little irked, so he merely grins when he catches the small breaks in between the two words. His poor little sluggish pan is just trying all so hard.

The sudden babbling of words at him sort of goes over his head, most of it being utter nonsense and all, but he feels a bit of familiarity when the topic of oceans and beaches come up. His own mind almost drifts back to that familiar place, but then mentally jolts himself out of there, a little disgusted with himself for feeling so sentimental all of a sudden. Fucking wrigglers and their blabber mouths...

When Gamzee finally takes a moment to breathe, the highblood watches him from the corner of his eye, passing the tenth floor now. The Aquarium always makes him sneer a little, but passes by it calmly. The little one is in high spirits, and he can sort of commend the kid for that. He just had a scary encounter with the highblood, after all, yet he's sprung back to such a state. Over something as vague and mysterious as miracles, even.]

It's not motherfucking surprising how the definitions of 'miracles' can all mean to another. With time, however, we will all be exploring just how motherfucking far we can all kick the wicked shit on this miracle business. [Then he gestures to the tower in general with a sweep of an arm.] But you're all motherfucking right about one thing: They are here, too, little motherfucker. This...tower, they call it, is just filled to the fucking brim with that nasty business, and only this tower can be all providing the miracle that I be all getting my look on at.

[He snickers lowly, in a much more sinister way than he had done earlier...though it's possible that Gamzee couldn't tell the difference from his usual laughs. The Vast Honk is still a thing he believes will come, and this tower will help him achieve it.]

[Gamzee didn't really understand everything the Highblood was alluding to, but he had finally found someone that would listen - and even respond! - to his fervent talk of miracles. He'd only paused briefly to marvel at the Aquarium as they passed it, until the GH got so far ahead that Gamzee had to scramble back up the stairs, lest he get lost. Again. He hadn't noticed all of these floors while he was bumbling his way to the cafeteria. The Tower was definitely a LOT bigger than he had originally thought! The Highblood was right, it certainly was full of miracles.

He grinned politely at that last statement, its implications flying straight between his horns. He returned the laughs with a few of his own. Everything seemed so lighthearted, now.]

Sounds like the fuckin' tits, Highblood. [You could practically hear him choking back the urge to add "bro" to the end of that title. IT WAS JUST SO HARD OKAY.] Uhh... we motherfuckin' there yet? [He added desperately, solidifying his place as the wriggler of this duo.]

[The finally reach the thirteenth floor, where the enormous cathedral was awaiting the highblood's arrival. It's like his second room, so to speak, for he spends hours at a time here. Something just screamed "religion" to him when he first saw this place, even if he had no idea what kind of religions humans had or designed their places of worship like, but something just told him it was so. It was just a feeling he had, and being a man of motherfucking faith, what good was it if he didn't trust his own instincts and feelings?

He has to shout because the oppressive nature of this floor muffles a lot of sound.]

Not a motherfucking moment too soon. [Then with a hint of mockery in his voice (thought it could've been in jest):] All to your motherfucking liking?

Edited 2012-02-20 08:45 (UTC)

[He stares up, and up, and up at the cathedral, almost falling backward from doing so. He'd never seen architecture of this caliber or style before - really the only things he'd seen were a few hives, including his own, the crazy lands in the game, and the bleak stretches of gray that made up their hideout in the Veil.

He tried to speak, but the noise seemed to be swept right out of his mouth. It didn't matter, anyway - he was so overwhelmed that he'd been rendered pretty much speechless.]

Whoaaaa...

[He wandered towards it, momentarily forgetting the Highblood was even there in favor of hanging his mouth open in awe.]

Edited 2012-02-20 09:01 (UTC)

[He chuckles despite himself, and finds himself a comfortable spot on the floor in between a couple rows of pews. Those seats are too small for him to be all that comfortable.

Not being in much of a hurry, the highblood lets Gamzee get his look on at the marvel of this structure. It's quite impressive, even to the highblood, though that's really not saying much seeing as he preferred a much more basic and raw design. But not half bad. The gothic theme is something he enjoys immensely, reminded more of his old home's decor.]

[And he does wander around for quite some time, sometimes walking slowly around, other times scurrying over to a particular spot that catches his interest, even more times just staring at some point that isn't quite apparent. Now he's walking down the aisle between pews until he stumbles against where the Highblood is seated.]

Augh--!

[He takes a few steps back, now eye-to-eye with his ancestor, or, close to it. Well, this was a first. He finally got a good look at his face without having his neck at a 90-degree angle. He looked... like Gamzee. Sort of. Only obviously much older, with elongated, more pronounced features. His hair was even more of an ungodly atrocity, if that was even possible, and his horns seemed to stretch on forever. He hadn't taken the time out yet to actually notice all of the similarities between them. Gamzee was always used to a lot of things, like being tall, having some of the biggest horns, being regarded as some sort of freakshow, those kinds of things. He didn't mind that one bit, though, he was chill with going with what felt right at all times! But, being with the Highblood, he felt smaller. Smaller and less of a... sore thumb, he supposed. If anything, it was a very odd feeling, indeed.

He spaced out a little, just staring at his ancestor for an awkward length of time.]

[Startled from his calm, the highblood glares at Gamzee for a second, but then realizes that he's already sort of...spacing out...and ugh, wow. He sure looks dopey as fuck. Stupid ass wriggler, how the fuck did he not get himself killed being like this? That in itself is a damn miracle.

Unlike Gamzee, the highblood already noticed quite a deal about the details on his little descendant. Hey, it's how he recognized him to be his ancestor in the first place! He tilts his head slightly, staring back with narrowed eyes. Then he reaches out to nudge Gamzee's chin up with a single finger.]

Gamzee. [A long pause. Let the secret interview begin!] How motherfucking old are you?

[He is stunned from the sudden contact, and stunned again when he's spoken to. Oh, he felt like getting his chat on now. That was cool! It was always good to learn about a brother, although he felt suddenly unsure of his answers. It seemed every time the Highblood had asked him something, it was more of a drilling than a simple curiosity. He actually had to go over his answer a few times to make sure it was correct - not because of the sopor, he knew how old he was, dammit - but because answering him was really nerve-wracking.]

Uh, six?

[He could almost clearly hear the ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKING ASKING ME OR ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKING TELLING ME that would come if he'd left it at that. So he got a little more confident with his answer.]

Six. ...How old are you, motherfucker?

[He raised an eyebrow curiously.]

[It's a good thing Gamzee changes his tone, because well, that response was exactly what was on the tip of his tongue. He pulls his hand back, now that he's got Gamzee's attention.

Well, six is a little younger than he had first imagined, seeing how tall Gamzee is for a stupid little troll. The sharp angles and the wear on the boy's face from the effects of sopor was doing a pretty good number on him. Fortunately, it wasn't too late to change all that! The highblood wants him healthy, so that he could become a proper subjugglating individual.

At the question, he breathes out heavily.]

Been around for a pretty motherfucking long time. Can't say I remember the exactly sweep but let's just put that around a hundred, just for motherfucking simplicity's sake and shit.

[Then barely waiting a beat, he asks his next question:] How do you all motherfucking see yourself in the next 5 sweeps? [Yep, literal interview here. You can almost see the pen and notepad in his hand.]

Edited 2012-02-20 19:05 (UTC)

[He'd forgotten about the hand under his chin, and had to keep himself from letting his head flop back down when it pulled away. Something about his ancestor touching him felt... odd. He didn't know in what way, but it was a very similar feeling to the nature of his questions. It uneased him, but at the same time, he couldn't help but feel compliant, eager for approval.

His eyes grew wide at the Highblood's response. Holy fuck, a hundred sweeps? He couldn't even imagine living that long, although it was entirely probable for him. What would one even do with all of that time? If you'd taken Gamzee's whole lifetime, and then added sixteen more of those lifetimes... Well, it would make his head spin if he had the math skills to figure it out, certainly. Instead he just sort of marveled at the staggering number.]

Holy motherfuck you be old as shit!

[Endless tact. The question that next came in rapid succession almost sent his pan spinning in a flurry of "uhh"s and "uhm"s, but he caught them all on the way out of his mouth. Well, most of them, anyway. It was enough to get him to have to sit down, falling back on his ass and crossing his legs Indian-style directly in front of the Highblood.]

Uhh, well... I much never thought about it, I guess. Actually, a motherfucker ain't never get his ponder on about future shit such to be like that. [He shrugged happily.] Who all knows what them laughing lords got laid out for a brother, you know? Motherfuckin' take that shit as it come at you, dogg.

Edited 2012-02-20 21:26 (UTC)

[The highblood's lip peel back into a brief, split-second snarl at the response, but masks it quite easily with a wide grin and a chuckle. He is very much aware of how old he is, and it's not something he's ashamed of at all, but goddamn Gamzee. Show a little respect!

Gamzee's struggle with words and coherent thought is laughable. He seems so helpless like this, only able to babble his way through things, and even when upset he's just bark and no bite. It's still a long ways until he can finally get Gamzee to snap out of his sopor stupor. Thoughts and plans reeled through his mind, letting Gamzee just babble on about not knowing shit about anything. Well, that's fine if he didn't know. It's not so much the answer he's concerned with anyway. The mentioning of lords perks his interest..]

You are familiar with the Messiahs. Didn't think that wicked noise even motherfucking carried on all to the times of you wrigglers. Now isn't that a motherfucking surprise?

[He grins, resting his elbows on the bend of his knees and his chin in his open hands. He doesn't bother lifting his head, just lets his eyes wander up to meet the other's.]

Sure as tits does, Highblood. Only, ain't not a lot of brothers got their believe on in them no more. This motherfucker's got his vascular brimming with all what's the most righteous of spiritualistic shit, though.

[Was he actually interested in a conversation? As in, focusing and responding somewhat relevantly? WELL GOD he never had someone who actually wanted to talk about this shit without verbally pummeling him in the face so just... give him a second to process this.]

[He straightens his posture, smirking a little.]

Motherfuckers don't get it, sometimes, now do they? Heh, it all just goes over their shitty nubs and can't get their faith all on about an inevitable miracle event that will be all changing the motherfucking universe.

[It's actually...nice to know that his descendant at least can appreciate some form of religion, whether they are the same as his or not. Shit might've developed over the sweeps or perhaps the teachings and views might've become askew on the home planet. Who knows? Shit ton of things could've happened, but he's here to be all easing the kid into teaching him the original ways. If he'll listen, that is.

Religion is a touchy subject, he finds, and trying to change a motherfucker's mind about that shit isn't easy. Fear only forces them to hide their true feelings, and that's not how things go down in the Subjugglator's court. You either believe or you don't! At least, that's his rule about it.]

It all pleases a brother to be hearing that your thinkpan isn't just full of motherfucking sopor after all.

[When the Highblood sat up, he moved out of Gamzee's vision, forcing him to sit up a little straighter himself. He splayed his arms across his folded legs, fidgeting a little with his untied shoelaces and listening to his ancestor. He hummed a small note of agreement.]

Ain't got to be ever gettin' my know on of a motherfucker what's kicked the spiritualosities the way I did. Got the best motherfuckin' friends but they ain't all too keen to start understanding 'bout all the miracle noise.

[A sad honk. It was nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff. Ugh, what, feelings get away what the fuck. He was way over this whole pie-fasting business and the way it made his high get its crazy ebb-and-flow on. He furrowed his brow, waiting for the good fuzzies to swarm into his pan again. Oh, well, motherfuck, speak of the fucking devil.]

Don't please this motherfucker very much.

[He honked out a laugh. Okay yeah that was probably the most unwise thing he could have ever said.]

[The highblood makes a low humming sound, his eyelids falling slightly at the sad tone, then narrowing sharply when Gamzee laments the lack of sopor. The highblood is no lusus, though this sort of reminds him of his own wrigglerhood, more vague flashes of memories of learning things from watching others and talking to other neighboring idigobloods (granted he had to walk for miles to find anyone). He did shit on his own, no one coddled him, and he's not going to start doing that shit to anyone else. Even his own descendant. Hell, especially his descendant.

He leans forward slowly, bringing himself eye level with Gamzee.]

Your dependency on sopor is motherfucking disgusting, little motherfucker. Why do you defile your pan with that shit?

[God, he was an idiot. Now the Highblood was in his face, and he had nowhere else to look but into those dark, dark indigo eyes staring right into him just as they had done earlier. Well, what was wrong with the slime, anyway? It made him feel good, made him happy! Why ever would that not be a good thing? He knew the Highblood got all angry about it, because...? Because he liked to be angry and sopor made you happy, is what he got from it. Brother just needed to relax a little!]

Shit makes the miracles brighter, motherfucker! Makes 'em burn so bright ain't no chance of one ever slipping away and not comin' back. [A melancholic smile. GOD, he didn't even know what that word meant, which is a good reason to not even be feeling it! Determination! Wait it out, the fuzzies will return...!] Make a brother see the shit for real! Get his happy face on and kick the wicked nasty noise outta there, is what it all helps in doin'.

[He smiles for real now. Maybe they could split one later. It'd be easier to show him than to try to explain its "enlightening" properties!]

[Let's see, how to break this to the kid without being a total douche--]

You are a motherfucking fool to drown away your sorrow and anger with fake motherfucking joy and brightness. Sure signs of all the weakness in the motherfucking universe, all crammed into the skinny-ass lanky little shit in front of me. [He's nearly shouting, but fortunately for Gamzee, this floor suppresses a lot of the volume. Then slowly, he draws back, closing his eyes for a moment.]

You will make your own motherfucking miracles, Gamzee. Don't need no motherfucking sleeping agents to be all getting that shit on for you, sooner or fucking later. Can't a motherfucker hear the Messiahs all getting their harshwhimsies on about what you can be all doing to fulfill your long fucking life? No, you can't, because the fake miracles and bullshit all conjured up by the effects of the slime are all blocking them out. Slime is motherfucking limited. The Calling is motherfucking forever, and it'll be bringing the greatest high of all in the end.

Just got to be motherfucking enduring the reality in the meantime, motherfucker. No wicked good shit...even the motherfucking sopor, all comes without a fucking price, you hear me?

[God, he feels like a real chump, trying to steer this little fucker onto the path of sobriety, acting like he can be all helpful and shit...but he reminds himself this is what he all has to do to keep the name of the Subjugglators alive.]

(Oh my god and then this tag turned into introspective rambling I am so sorry askldf time for bed.)

[He's being quite attentive now, putting his arms behind him and resting his weight on his hands to get a better look at the Highblood. Insults notwithstanding - Gamzee was immune to any sort of verbal abuse anyway - this ancestor of his was the first person he knew that believed in, well, something that was probably the same thing he did? The miracles were there, the Messiahs were there... Even though he was from so long ago, the teachings were ageless. He hadn't known how fulfilling it would be to be able to meet someone who could enlighten him more about these things so deeply rooted in his soul.

Aside from even that, another curious thought prickled at his pan. Thoughts were always a fun thing to be getting. It was easy to get the deep ones while on the sopor - the universe, the miracles, all of those broad, endless subjects were fascinating while high. It was... it was the smaller, more concentrated thoughts that were harder to get a handle on. He seemed to be doing okay with them right now, which brought him back to the original curious thought.

Why was the Highblood going out of his way to advise him? Sure, he was his ancestor, but as the guy stated himself - he wasn't his lusus. So, why the preachy nature all of a sudden? It was curious, was all it was, and... to be honest, Gamzee couldn't really say he hated the idea of getting some sort of direction. From somewhere, anywhere. He could manage on his own, sure. He always had. And his lusus had taken fine care of him when he was around! Didn't put the blame on him one bit, that fucker had to do what he had to do. But putting advice into something he could relate to, understand, and fully get behind, was something he hadn't experienced before. It made him that much more willing to go along with it.

He didn't... really like the idea of not being happy all the time, however.]

But I got the believings all in me! I got that shit locked all motherfuckin' fierce-like inside that it ain't goin' nowhere. We all gonna get to that wicked mystical paradise what's at the end of this crazy circus, so what's it motherfuckin' matter which ways a brother takes while he gets to getting there?

[It was an honest question. He hoped it didn't make his ancestor angry again, but he seemed so knowledgeable, and Gamzee had hardly known he had had this many questions inside of him. Things always felt sort of straightforward. Then again, he'd never had anyone who'd truly known about his faith question the way he was following it before.]

[He's this close to just smacking Gamzee, but eugh, it is a pretty legitimate question. One he's pretty sure he's asked the same question a long time ago, too.]

You think the ultimate reward will all just be motherfucking dumped into your skinny-ass lap because you just all get your believing on about something? That's just all kinds of fucking wrong, little motherfucker. Shit's gotta be worked for, you hear me? You motherfucking hearing me, Gamzee?

[There isn't so much anger in his voice as there is a sort of bubbling excitement. Like Gamzee, all the trolls he knew from his time did not have the faith, and didn't deserve to learn of its wonderment. It was just him and his Subjugglators, though sometimes they were stupid little shits a good deal of the time, at least they made worthy pawns. Being in this tower, he stood alone in this belief, and that just would not do.]

We did not all motherfucking spread the motherfucking wicked word, and spill the sacrificial colors for shits and giggles, motherfucker. We all got to be playing our roles in this coming of the Vast Honk! [At this point, he's staring up at the ornate ceiling of the cathedral, his gaze sort of going out of focus as he speaks.]

[His eyes drift awkwardly up to, approximately, where the Highblood's had gone. Of course, he wasn't seeing anything remotely close to what his ancestor was. The ceiling was pretty, though. He smiled lazily for a while, contemplating the intricate ironwork, following the twisting metal as it made its own way across the structure. Lolling his head back and letting his mouth hang open obscenely. A few moments of this, then he snapped back to reality.]

Oh... uhh... well what do I all got to be makin' myself useful of to be doin' to make sure what's all right with them whimsical omnipotent motherfuckers? Don't like to get my disappoint on of no brothers. 'Specially them brothers.

[He looks vaguely concerned, drawing his hands up and wringing them together.]

[His own gaze lowers when Gamzee's muffled sounding voice cuts through the air. Aw...]

Like I all motherfucking told you, you all gotta open up them useless flaps all up on the side of your head and get that wicked message to seep into your motherfucking pan.

[Then he lifts a finger, like he's making some sort of astounding point!] But that sopor is all getting clogged up in your head, motherfucker! The Messiah will all say things at you, but it just won't get through all those colors you're all getting your look on at!

[He makes an uncertain face, wringing his hands some more and averting his gaze. He doesn't want to stop eating sopor! It's always been more of a help than a hindrance when it came to religion! He couldn't imagine why ceasing to eat it would make things better.]

But... the slime be a good fuckin' thing! Don't motherfuckin' get why more brothers and sisters don't be gettin' their sees on of the shit what's that way. You ain't the first motherfucker to get their harsh all on about how uncool the shit be, but no one who's all ever gotten to be experiencing them wicked mystical crazies even got a sense to be knowing what they be all preachin' about, you know?

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THROWS HTML OUT THE WINDOW

HHHHSDJHSD

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whoops i said ancestor instead of descendant /cryingcat

bwubwuwbwu baby it's ok i knew what you meant s'all good

;v;

u///u

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i have no idea what i just wrote

highblood you are the best motivational speaker you need to do seminars

no don't encourage him he will somehow turn everyone into murderous psycho-clowns

nahh only gullible dipshits, oh look here's one now

oh god so precious i can't handle him ever forever!!!

ghbbbbbbbbbbbbb you're terribleeee flails around