mr. dictator

Skin to Skin

Jughead Jones doesn’t know how the crimson crescents ended up on his palms.

Betty Cooper is clueless when it comes to the messages on her arms.

Soulmate AU where all the little marks and injuries belonging to Betty and Jughead start finding themselves on each other’s skin. 

A/N: I’m always a sucker for AUs! Hope you enjoy this!

Chapter i

Jughead Jones is almost done with an incredibly important meeting when it first happens.

Jason Baltimore, the editor of the Long Island Publishing House, is sitting across him, fiddling with a ballpoint pen as he addresses Jughead. They’ve been in this windowless room for about two hours now, and Jughead can’t help but curse whoever designed this building. Hidden away in the streets of Manhattan, this place took an arduous amount of effort to find, and the sort-of dingy exterior almost made Jughead do a one-eighty and turn back. Sure, this is the first publishing house that liked my book, but I’m sure I can find another. He’d thought, but he’d shaken his head and made his way in.

“Mr. Jones, are you listening?”

Jughead’s head snapped up, blue-green eyes meeting brown. “Sorry, yes, it’s just a bit stuffy here.” He said.

“Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Jones, but we’ll have to conduct the rest of our meeting here.” Mr. Baltimore says, visible sweat stains peeking out from under his armpits.

Jughead nodded and fiddled with his watch. “Yeah, that’s okay. I’ll manage.”

“So we’ve got two problems.” The blonde, slightly chubby man, says. “One, your name is Jughead.”

Jughead raises his hands defensively. “So what?”

“You’re going to risk ridiculing yourself. People will end up laughing at your name on the cover instead of noticing the title.”

“Or,” Jughead says, leaning forward, “I’ll take them by surprise. ’The Anatomy of a Murder’ will be all the more unique, considering the fact that its content is so serious.”

Mr. Baltimore mimics his movement, resting his elbows on the desk between them. “At the acquisitions meeting, this issue was brought up, Mr. Jones.”

“So I will convince them.” Jughead Jones was a stubborn man.

Mr. Baltimore wipes away a droplet of sweat. “Let’s say you don’t succeed. Would you, maybe, consider an alternative? I don’t suppose your real name is Jughead.

Oh, no. No way was ‘Forsythe Jones’ going to be put on the cover of his first book; there was a reason he preferred ‘Jughead’ over that ridiculous name. (Ironic, considering the fact the Jughead was pretty ridiculous, too.)

Jughead shakes his head. “Let’s just say my real name is worse.” He eyes the editor in front of him. “It looks fine on paychecks and insurance forms, but not on a novel.”

“Perhaps a pseudonym, then?”

Jughead sets his mouth into a thin line.

“No, then.” Mr. Baltimore says, gauging his reaction. “Mr. Jones, I advise you to think this over, and get back to me on Wednesday.”

He flips open his laptop. “Now, the next issue I want to discuss… well, it’s not an issue, but something I would like you to know…” He turns the laptop face towards Jughead. “You’re twenty two years old. You’re a senior at NYU. Probably the youngest among a huge community of authors.”

Jughead nods. “I’m well aware of that.”

“Mr. Jones, your style is unique, and your writing is brilliant, but generally, books by younger authors don’t tend to be as successful as others, and I hope you’re prepared for such a situation.”

Jughead bites his lip. “I know, Mr. Baltimore. I hardly expected this book to get picked up by a publisher in the first place, and I’m thankful to you, I am. But, I think that the masses will like it. I truly do.”

“I am hopeful, too, Mr. Jones- can I call you Jughead, by the way?”

“Sure.”

“I am hopeful too. Just preparing you. Moving on,” Mr. Baltimore says, fanning himself with Jughead’s manuscript. “Oh, for God’s sake- someone get the Air Conditioner working!” He yells after stalking to the door and sticking his head out.

Thank you, Jughead thinks, because he doesn’t feel too comfortable about the fact that his manuscript is now a makeshift fan. Plus, the need for fresh air is only increasing.

“Now,” Mr. Baltimore says, once he’s settled in his chair again, “You need to create accounts on social media, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Tumblr and Reddit if you want to discuss theories with your readers, and all the likes.”

Jughead internally groans at the Twitter and Instagram part, but he knows it’s necessary. The Tumblr and Reddit part he’s fine with, though. He’s been on those sites for years now.

“Could I borrow a pen?” Jughead asks. He needs a reminder, and writing on his forearm is a habit he’s had for many years. Once he Mr. Baltimore gives him one, he jots down a sentence onto his pale skin- Remember to succumb to the true giants of social media.

“And finally, Jughead, we’re assigning you an agent. Though you won’t need him as much if your book, well, doesn’t gain popularity, it’s still better to have one at hand. I’m giving you his number, shall I text it to you or will you write it down?”

Jughead’s phone is currently at a repair shop- it’s an iPhone 3, he’s been able to survive with that archaic thing for years now, but finding a store that actually fixed them was a huge task. But his screen had cracked badly, and Jughead has too many notes on it to buy another one without recovering stuff from this one.

“I’ll write it down.” He grabs the pen, once again, and etches the set of numbers Mr. Baltimore dictates to him.

“Well, Jughead, I’ll see you on Wednesday. This meeting was a pleasure, and I’m glad that I’ve decided to publish your book. But, think the name over.”

Jughead smiles, blushing ever so slightly. “Thank you, Mr. Baltimore.”

He grabs his bag and shrugs his leather jacket (courtesy JB) onto his shoulders and stands up. He has a shift at Barnes and Nobles’, and then a paper to write for his film study course, so he needs to hurry.

That’s when it happens. His palm suddenly stings, like it’s been cut, and Jughead winces with surprise. He opens his hands, palms up, looks at them, and sees that they’re bleeding. His fingernails have cut open the skin of his palm, and smears of blood marr the white skin.

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Animals

Punk!Michael Imagine

Summary: He was everything your dad hated, everything you were never supposed to associate with. Though it’s something about the way his lips feel on your skin that create a longing you’ve never quite felt before. But when trouble ensues, as it usually does when you’re close with Michael, you’ll have to choose between the mysterious punk boy and the future you’ve worked so hard for. 

A/N: I’ve been writing this for the past week and it turned out way longer than I thought but you guys voted to have one long piece as opposed to two parts, so grab a snack and get comfy cos you’ll be here awhile…anyway I hope you enjoy:)

~Approx. 7.8k words~
~Warnings: Light smut, mentions of drugs, swearing~

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- “ The White Helmets ” wins the Oscar for best documentary. And Khaled Khatib, a member of Syrian civil defence and a cinematographer ; and Read Salah, the founder of the White Helmets, were unable to attend the ceremony because of Trump’s policy" Muslim-ban".

- During an interview with Bashr Alassad they asked him whether he’ll support the Whilte Helmets -civil defence- to win a Nobel prize he said: “ what did they do for Syria?”
Well Mr. Dictator, they are saving the people who you’re trying to kill. 82,280+ lives have been saved by those heroes. God bless them.

- “This short clip well give you an idea of what the white helmets do every single day in Syria. ”

(( to save one life, is to save all humanity))
(( ومن أحياها فكأنما أحيا الناس جميعا))

Blood, Sex and Whiskey - Part 3

Paint It Black

Warnings: Violence, hints of sexual innuendos, language 

A/N: I figured it out – my life that is literally dictated by Mr. Barnes. Here is Part 3, finally some plot action! Its also the end of what I made a Part 3 series but never fear luvs, never fear…….. 

Tag list: @iheartbinbons @binbonsadoration @delos-mio @lafemmedemon @la-fille-en-aiguilles@ladyblablabla @drinix @padfootagain @princesse-de-ravenclaw @lovelysiriuss


It was the ringing that consumed your senses first. It was high pitched as it consumed your senses and you lolled around. That was when you realized the restrictions. Your wrists were bound by rope to something hard, the stiff material making it hard for you to move. You fought through the blackness that you had found comfort in and tried to open your eyes, a bright light consuming you, making you squint your eyes back close for a second.

You had to focus.

You took a deep breath, your lungs instantly spazzing from pain. A sore pain that you couldn’t pin down and you prayed you hadn’t broken a rib. You took a couple more breaths, content that you were probably just badly bruised before focusing on other places in your body. Your legs weren’t bound but the way you were sitting -  tightly bound to the stiff wooden  chair - made movement awkward. Your breathing was shallow but you knew you weren’t too bruised and could find a way to escape with a little time on your side. That and the heavy pounding in your head to go away, distracting you from focusing on anything else. 

You reopened your eyes, trying to gauge your surroundings. Hoping to hell that you were alone.

You weren’t.

Billy was across from you, leaning against a desk with his hands crossed, watching you deliberately. There were two other men in the room with you but that’s all the detail you could gather for now.

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plinys  asked:

"kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing" is such a time canary thing okay, sara def kisses people to distract them all the time

send me a pairing + a prompt for a ficlet

Sara had ash in her hair. It wasn’t the prettiest look and yet somehow she was still pulling it off but Rip couldn’t get over the fact that she had ash in her hair.

“Please tell me that you were not the cause of Pompeii.”

Sara’s eyes darted away, “Look this one’s on Mick. And it was how it was supposed to happen anyway so technically we fixed it.”

“Sara.” Rip began but was cut off when she tugged on his coat, pulling him down for a kiss.

“I need a shower.” Sara arched an eyebrow, “Could use someone to scrub my back.”

Rip blustered for only a second, “This isn’t over.”

“I’m sure it is.” Sara assured him, her hand not letting go of his coat to lead him along with her.


~~


Reading Nate’s reports on history was important, Sara knew that logically, but it didn’t stop her eyes from glazing over by the third paragraph.

“I was never much of a history person in school.” She grumbled to herself, “I thought that’s why we had Nate in the first place.” Still she owed it to him to actually read the damn thing and tried to focus again.

“One of Mr. Heywood’s dictations?” Rip said from behind her, leaning over to squint at it. “He certainly enjoys to talk about it.”

“Yes he does.” Sara agreed, not looking away.

“Of course there are better things to look at during one’s free nights.” Rip continued and Sara was surprised when he turned her cheek to pull her into a kiss.

“Why Rip I think I’m a bad influence on you.” Sara grinned and Rip rolled his eyes.

“I suppose you have been.” He relented.

“Tell me more about my free nights.” Sara said, pulling him back for another kiss.

Mr. Pines (Stanley Pines x Reader)

Note: This is my first time posting one of my fanfictions online, so here’s an apology ahead of time because it’s not especially interesting, and please excuse grammar mistakes!


It was pretty slow at the Mystery Shack today, with the occasional customer strolling in to take a casual look around. Even so, Stanley Pines still had his employees hard at work. I was stationed at the counter, laying on my arm as my eyes kept watch on the shop. Soos was working on fixing the air conditioner, which Mr. Pines only decided to fix when he was sure that he saw smoke rising from his heated employees.

Hearing a familiar rumble of footsteps, I quickly picked myself back up, straightening out my shirt so I looked like I was actually putting effort into my work. Not that it ever did much good for me, considering that Mr. Pines had security cameras everywhere to watch out for any shoplifters.

Not soon after I fixed myself back up did Mr. Pines walk in, his signature fez on his head and his suit done up.

“Didn’t you almost die of heatstroke?” I ask, raising an eyebrow when I looked him over. Logic was dictating that Mr. Pines should be fried up to hell by now. Mr. Pines gave a scoff, rolling his eyes as his hands went up to fix his fez,

“Yeah, yeah. Gotta look the part, don’t I?” He mumbled, shaking his head slightly before bundling his hands into fists and placing them on his hips, his eyes surveying the shop. Mr. Pines began to rub his chin in thought, before finally bringing his gaze to me, “Wendy still not in?”

The girl hadn’t been in all morning. But to be fair, she was never on time anyway. Wendy was a later than usual today. When I was about to answer, Mr. Pines suddenly cleared his throat, obviously having something else in mind to talk about. “So, kid…” He started slowly, his usual cockyness absent, “Anything interesting happen this morning?”

“What?” I ask, tilting my head in question. This morning? It was a strange question to ask out of the blue. “No-” Mr. Pines’s mouth twitched into a frown at the answer, “-Not that I’d notice anything,” I gave a sheepish laugh, “Why’re you asking?”

I had started my work here at the Mystery Shack over two months ago, and while I knew this whole town was weird, it got all the worse when I was hired. Having to save Mr. Pines’s great niece and nephew from a monster was a real shock. My boss was nice enough, though he wasn’t as warm to me as he was to Soos and Wendy. The first couple weeks of work were different, though I had no idea what changed.

I wasn’t sure why it bugged me so much that I was being treated different. He was just my boss. What did I even do to deserve this treatment? It surely couldn’t be my work effort, considering that Wendy was much more lax than me.

“What? Can’t I ask just to be nice?” Mr. Pines’s gruff voice broke me out of my thoughts, and I looked to him, hoping that he didn’t catch me zoning out.  He apparently didn’t as he stayed silent to wait for my response. “I, uh, just forget I asked anything,” He says, coughing into his fist nervously.

I was afraid to ask, thoughts of him disliking me already running through my head, “Alrighto, Mr. Pines.”

He was already turning around to leave again, though my words got him to visibly flinch. Mr. Pines gave me one last glance behind his back as he scurried out of the shop again, mumbling about how he needed to check storage and see how Soos was doing.

I gave a small hum in thought as I returned to my lazy position at the counter, boredom overtaking me again. Nothing was there to occupy myself from thinking about my conman of a boss. Which this was a problem that I’ve been trying to stop.

Stan Pines was a thief, a scam artist, and a businessman. He once asked me what the difference was between those things.

The guy was obviously not the best role model for me to look up to. That can go without saying. Though to be honest, role model is not the right word I would use to describe my feelings towards him. I wasn’t like Soos, who placed the man as a father figure in his life. I didn’t know what Mr. Pines was to me. But I can say that I really did like him, for whatever strange reason.

What can I say, that old man had a sort of pull on me.

“Jesus crap,” Wendy’s voice strained out, the door of the Mystery Shack opening as she walked through. I couldn’t immediately see where she was, an arrangement of flowers blocking her view as she staggered over to the counter. “You know how hard this thing is to haul all the way over here?” She huffed to me, placing down the vase of flowers near me. Wendy placed her hands behind on her back, twisting until she heard a pop.

“Wow, Wendy,” Was all I could say to her at first, my eyes looking over the vase of flowers, “I knew you were popular with the boys, but this seems a bit fancy, eh?” I was grinning to her, taking my time to slowly walk around the vase so I could see all of its angles.

Wendy gave a small snort, reaching over and patting the vase lazily, “That’s what I thought at first,” She replied, plucking a card out that was in the flowers.

Like there was earlier, both Wendy and I heard a patter of footsteps walking towards us. It was Mr. Pines again, most likely seeing who it was who entered the shop. He opened his mouth to say something to Wendy when he saw her, but no words left, the old man choking on his words as he looked to the flowers that Wendy had brought in.

“Sorry about being late,” Wendy said, the words being rather familiar on her tongue. She gestured to the flowers, “But I had a delivery to make before my brothers destroyed this thing for good.”

“Delivery?”

Wendy then turned to me, and Mr. Pines was still in a shocked silence as she handed me the card. I turned it over in my hands, the edges new and crisp. Sure enough, it wasn’t Wendy’s name on it. Rather, it was mine.

“From Mr. Mystery?” I had finished the card, my eyes turning to Mr. Pines as I read the words on the card.

He took a sharp intake of breath, his shoulders tense. His eyes were wide and he didn’t release the breath that he had taken in. The poor man looked like he was going to die. But it couldn’t be, could it?

“You got a secret admirer, how sweet is that?” Wendy cut in, not noticing Mr. Pines’s nervous posture.

“Secret admirer?” I couldn’t help but repeat her, my stomach dropping when Wendy came up with a better conclusion than what my mind did on its own.

As I’ve said before, I wasn’t sure about my feelings towards my boss. Now, it was painfully obvious to what they were. I hated myself for realizing, knowing that now I would have a hard time acting normally in front of him now.

“How did you get your hands on that?” Mr. Pines asks, his voice still hoarse like usual, though it sounded accusing of Wendy.

“Dude, this thing was sent to my house. I think whoever this is got our addresses mixed up somehow,” Wendy defended herself and crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the counter.

“It was…sent to your house?”

Before anything else could be said, our boss let a drawn out sigh passed his lips, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head softly. Wendy and I looked to each other, unsure of what brought this on.

“Just,” He paused to turn away, looking defeated as he was retreating out of the shop again, “Get back to work and earn me money!” He finished off a bit optimistically, realizing that he was showing off his down mood.

—  

“I’ll be off, Mr. Pines!” I called out as my day of work at the Mystery Shack was ending for that day, walking around the counter with my arms stretched above my head, “Maybe we’ll get more customers tomorrow?” I suggested, hoping to cheer him up from whatever slump he was in. Ever since the whole flower incident, Stan was a lot more…reclusive from me than usual. It had begun to bother me more than it had before now that I finally understood the nature of my feelings towards my boss, and I prayed that I wouldn’t start to act any different because of this realization. Why did I have to like HIM of all people? I’m sure that Gravity Falls didn’t have THAT small of a dating pool.

Usually Stan would come on out to count the money that we had made that day, and it gave me a bit of relief when he still came out today to continue the tradition. His eyes turned to the flowers that had been sitting on the counter all day and only gave a scoff to it before he turned to the register.  

“Some nice flowers, aren’t they?” I asked and gently patted the case, smiling softly at Stan who didn’t even look up from the cash in his hands. “They must have cost a lot, and the vase is nice looking too. Whoever sent these were nice enough to send my favorite flowers, don’t you think?” I continued on with my examinations, touching the delicate petals that were grown to beautiful perfection. I wanted to say more but the horrible thought that I was bothering Stan had begun to gnaw at me. I looked to Stan to see if he’d changed in any way.

His eyes were narrowed as he was looking down to the day’s earnings, thumbing through it as the counted. He looked like he was concentrating so I thought that maybe he didn’t hear me or he was ignoring me. Probably the latter.

I sighed and wrapped my hands around the vase and pulled it from the counter, placing on hand underneath it to help support the weight. I turned towards the door with a quick glance to Stan, hoping that he didn’t notice that I kept looking to him. I suppose I should just accept that he didn’t like me as well as I would have liked. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Pi-”

“Stan,” He suddenly pitched in behind me and I could hear him move around the counter to walk to me.  

“What?”

“Call me Stan. Everyone else does, so  don’t know why you’re always talking to me so formally,” He explained and walked passed me, flashing me a look that suggested that he didn’t understand the confusion that I had shown. “Be seeing you, kid,” Stan said as he opened up the door for me, his eyes to the floor and a hand on his hip.  

I didn’t know what had suddenly brought this on, but this new change made my chest tingle happily and I felt the weight of worry that I had began to feel go away. “Thank you, Stan,” I smiled to him before walking out with the vase clenched close to my chest. Today was a good day.

Stan had stayed at the door until he saw you get into your car and his lips were pulled into a smile as he waved your car goodbye as it disappeared behind the trees. When you were out of sight his expression fell and he sighed heavily, arms dropped to his sides as he turned and slowly walked back to the counter. He groaned and covered his eyes with his hand to hide his embarrassment despite being the only one at the shop. “I think my memory is finally turning to shit.”

He couldn’t believe that he made the mistake in sending the flowers to Wendy’s address instead of yours. Most employers would have some sort of form that they would have their employees fill out before hiring them, but not Stan Pines. He didn’t like the idea of filling them out and decided that he wouldn’t need them for his own business and took to just remembering little details like addresses.  

This wouldn’t have even happened if Mabel didn’t talk him into getting you flowers. His great niece didn’t know who he was asking advice for, but she did know that her Grunkle had an eye for someone here in Gravity Falls. Stan didn’t like her even knowing THAT much. What was so wrong with his idea anyway? He figured that he could have just let you pick something out from the gift shop and have it for FREE. It worked on the kids the first month that they got here, so he figured you’d enjoy the gesture too. But of course, Mabel the “love expert” knew better and told him to go with her plan of buying flowers.  

“I think I’m getting too old for this sort of thing,” Stan grumbled as he rubbed the sides of his face tiredly. “Well, at least something came out of this.”

And something did. He had managed to get on a first name basis with you which was a step in the right direction. It felt odd for him to be called “Mr.” by somebody that he liked while everybody else that he tolerated was content with calling him Stan.  

What Mr. Mystery didn’t know was that today was quite the discovery for you.

I updated my store with prints of TV Shows & movies!

You can get them single or in packs of four postcards. Are also available in A4 and A3 size.Come on, cheer up! HERE

anonymous asked:

Looks like dadwin will win, unless he fucks up more than what your girls did.

Ehi ehi ehi!
Slow down there.

First of all, we technically did nothing wrong, is taking photos illecit now? No.
Second, I didn’t encourage them to do anything of that sort. But I guess that doesn’t count since I’m their leader anyway.

And third… I have the feeling Dadwin would be a better president than mr. Psycho-pseudo-dictator-with-obvious-behavior-disturbs , anyway.
Dadwin is stupid, but not rotten.

Cookie

I found this yesterday:

okay but if your otp had a kid

which one would sneak that kid a cookie after the other parent said no

And one idea came. Enjoy this Gajevy fluffy drabble.

“Mummy, can you give us a cookie?”

Levy looked away, only to see her two little twin-daughters Liana and Rose, who stared pleadingly at her.

“Sorry, honey, but I can’t. You two know the rules - you will get dessert right after dinner. ”

Levy continued to cut vegetables in front of her. She perfectly knew what her children felt - hell, she wanted a cookie too - but the house had rules and they all were required to observe them.

“Come on, Mom,” said 6-year-old Leo, who was reading a book. “Let today to skip the rules. Only one! ”

The woman could not help but soften upon application. Now all three of her children kept saying “Please, please, please.” Leo was a complete copy of his father (only appearance)and everyone knew that she just could not say no to her husband, and for 3-year-old twins’s doggy eyes didn’t help.

She put her hands on her temples and focus. What was I supposed to do? It was clear that they all wanted a cookie, she also wanted a cookie, but the rule was that they should wait until dinner. But-

“Hey, brats, what’s all the noise here?”

The four turned to see Gajeel accompanied by Panther Lily.

“Daddy! Mummy don’t give us a cookie! "Screamed Liana and she and her sister clutched at their father’s legs.

Leo nodded.

"It’s not fair. Rebellion! ”

Now the children began to cry out “rebellion” like crazy and their voices echoed in the whole house. Levy looked Gajeel for help, but his face stood that satanic grin that slid shiver on her spine .

“Well, as many a rebellions, we must overthrow the tyrant!”

Suddenly he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her into the air to prevent her escape. Levy screamed and writhed in his hands, but he did not let her go. There was a noise, and the next moment the three children fled to the living room, each of them holding in their hands two cookies.

Levy screamed again.

“Let me go, you brainless dragon!”

Gajeel laughed at her reaction.

“Only if you promise no more dictatorship … unless you’re in bed, Mrs. Dictator.”

Levy blushed like a tomato, but nodded and he let her down to the ground … And the next moment half of one of her special chocolate chip cookies was tucked in her mouth and the other - in her dragon slayer’s. He smirked and pulled her closer to him, closing the distance between them. Kiss with a hint of chocolate was definitely something great and Levy was amazed how even after 7 years of marriage Gajeel always managed to come up with something interesting to kindle the spark between them.

Finally they separated from each other and exchanged glances.

“No more tyranny, right?”

Levy laughed.

“Roger that, boss.”

Circles [Jaebum] |5|

Originally posted by polarbeom

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

So, here’s what’s going on. You probably seen the look on my face on how shocked to see Jaebum’s ex-girlfriend back in town. It may be a disturbing face, but I’m pretty sure you can relate. No? Yes?

Sigh. There goes my drama-free life as if that was such a thing.

So, like any other girl in my position would do… A. quickly leave the grocery store or B.  Somehow awkwardly tried to continue shopping while avoiding her. And like a daughter with a mother who demanded her supplies for dinner, I had to choose B. I was forced to. If my mother didn’t cook today, I would have left that store in a speed of light. I would be so gone. So out of here.

But look at her. I sighed to myself as I looked down at myself and then at her again.

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Things I Have Deduced So Far Abt LazyTown

1) sportacus n robbie r hella gay for each other
2) mayor meanswell is a communist dictator
3) mrs busybody is his main hoe
4) ziggy is a sugar addict in desperate need of help
5) sportacus is diabetic or some shit bc who tf cant eat sugar
6) the whole thing is stephanie’s imaginary world. there are no parents, a bad guy who rlly isnt a bad guy and never wins, an always-good, always-right father figure who always comes when needed, and there is little to no governemnt to the town. the kids are responsible for themselves, while mayor meanswell and mrs busybody just perform ceremonies. stephanie may have created this world in order to escape her own harsh reality, in which her father is absent and she has no friends. sportacus is the father she never had and ziggy, pixel, stingy, and trixie are the friends she desperately craves. mr mayor and ms busybody are there to add realistic details
7) stingy is a greedy lil bitch
8) sportacus is more flexible than a rubber band
9) pixel is gonna turn into a neckbeard if he keeps it up
10) sportacus sleeps for 12 hrs exactly

i  was  on a  swim  team for the majority of my childhood years  so like.  its now  instinct to adore  michael phelps. swimmer law  dictates if  mr  phelps  is in danger you must lay  down your life for  him. dying for  him is considered an honor