Well I saw it. I wish I could say it was everything I expected it to be but it was worse. To summarize everything in one fluent and well-arranged thesis is too daunting a task because there’s simply too much to say about this blaspheme and so little time to properly convey it all. so here’s the main points on everything you need to know about this film
-i thought the Wreck It Ralph comparisons were bad enough but we find out Jailbreak was formerly a princess emoji but she rejected her status in favor of something more spunky and rebellious like holy shit they’re just unabashed in ripping off the beats of a superior movie. -Sony hates millenials despite the fact that this movie was tailor-made to pander to them in the worst ways possible. Case in point, at one point the main human contemplates texting his crush and his frind tells him to only use emojis before saying in the most dude-bro way “words aren’t COOL” at one point the teacher is talking about hieroglyphs and has to liken them to “the original emojis” because the students don’t want to learn any other way! they’re too obsessed with their phones! they have no attention spans! get it? GET IT? -ADDING ONTO THAT! what is the message of this film? it doesn’t have one! there’s a scene where we see the main human deleted an email of lyrics/poetry he wrote for his crush but he deleted it because as his friends say WORDS AREN’T COOL. and you think “oh. the message will be that teens need to actually talk to each other more and express their feelings whatever” but oh no no no this is THE EMOJI MOVIE we’re talking about and the climax of the film is resolved by Gene (the main emoji) using his multiple faces to make the first emoji composed of multiple feelings back to back and gets sent to the crush who says “wow! I loved your emoji! it’s so nice to see a guy who’s willing to express his feelings” WHAT THE HELL? SO YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE FUN OF YOUTH FOR USING EMOJIS BUT ULTIMATELY EMOJIS SAVE THE DAY? -ALSO THE HUMAN IS A FUCKING NERD WHO DECIDES TO TAKE HIS PHONE TO THE TECH STORE TO DELETE EVERYTHING JUST BECAUSE ONE EMOJI DOESN’T WORK -There’s a stupid subplot about Gene’s meh parents having a falling out but it’s okay because they reconcile inside Instagram by hijacking a romantic photo and using the right filter -TJ Miller touted the film as having a feminist positive message and let me tell you this is what it is. In Candy Crush, Gene finished one of Jailbreak’s sentences when she has an idea and out of nowhere Jailbreak yells “MEN ARE ALWAYS GETTING CREDIT FOR WOMEN’S IDEAS AND I’M SICK OF IT!” it comes immediately and ends abruptly. Gene doesn’t respond to it and Jailbreak doesn’t build onto that. the subject ends there. 10 minutes later Jailbreak says out of nowhere that in the early days emoji women only had the choice to be “princesses or brides” but that in the cloud she can be whatever she wants to be. again, this is never brought further or built upon. it feels so tacked on and barely even surface level like fuck they patted themselves on the back for this progressive-ass movie -speaking of progressive, an internet troll calls the Just Dance lady a g***y. so yeah, add a slur usage to the list of offenses -they go to Dropbox? Becuase kids love using Dropbox???? -Gene creates a new dance. The Emoji Bop. yes there is a dance party ending. -Someone tells Poop that he’s going soft. Patrick Stewart had to say the following line. “Not too soft, I hope” -Jailbreak in her princess form whistles and summons a twitter bird -they go into youtube which has viral videos that are in live action and it’s super disorienting -because this is a Sony movie, everyone uses Sony smart phones -the 15 year old human has one of those fake-out apps that looks like a dictionary to his parents but it’s meant to hide like porn and illegal downloads so yeah fun for the whole family -if there’s one and I mean ONE good thing about the film it’s short. like barely 70 minutes. and yet that still feels like too long
The Emoji Movie is what you get when you have too much money. and nothing else. wait for a camrip online before watching it ironically. please please do not give this money. please. please. please please pleaskd qn
head chef, who happens to be covered head to toe in centipedes and stale canola oil: i am Cobfident that chef ramsay will enjoy my food. there is nothing wrong with my food. my food is perfect, five stars.
gordon ramsay: i will have the risotto
head chef: ok [throws some rice into a sewer, lights it on fire, and empties a packet of frozen kraft singles into the flames]
gordon ramsay: *takes a bite* this sucks
head chef: Oh, so we got a bitch and a liar here? Chef Ramsey doesn’t like my food, huh? So we got a blasphemer and a false prophet here, huh? Chef Ramsay dosent know what the fuck or shit he is talking about and I’m personally about to knock him out cold with my massive ballsack.
do you think that when mary died. when her time on earth was up and she closed her eyes and smiled because she was going to be with her son and her god,,
do you think that jesus’ heart sped up and he loves us all with the same spellbinding and infinite love but this was his mother, this was his mother,,
do you think he knew it was the time and he ran through the streets and dancing throngs and he was there when she arrived and she saw him and smiled and there were tears in her eyes and she burst into sobs as she knelt and he knelt with her and held her in his arms and stroked her hair and kissed her forehead as she wept and fingered the holes still in his wrists and didn’t dare call him son only remember when she held him tiny in her arms,,
do you think that when he pulled her to her feet and gently touched her cheek and said the roar “well done, my beloved servant” she finally healed somewhere deep inside and she forgave her son for dying and thanked her god that he did,,
Oh my gosh I forgot to tell you guys.
I was jamming to Book of Mormon on the way home yesterday with my windows down and I was stopped at a redlight and the 30 year old or so, white suburban mom driving a Lexus, in the lane next to me YELLED AT me and said I shouldn’t listen to it because it’s “blasphemous” so I turned it up.
Prompt: requested by
an anon from my songfic list. Jughead and the gang have a night out with their
A/N (please read): YAY SO IM FROM IRELAND AND I GOT TRY WRITE THIS YAY THANKS ANIN. This ended
up being deeply personal as I myself am Irish and so this ended up being
my favourite thing I’ve ever written (surprise, surprise the irish river dale obsessed girl likes the jughead x irish reader thing she wrote Also, Y/N ended up being super like me so apologies but I did try to keep her as ambiguous as I could). I hope you guys
enjoy it and the extra bits (actual, not stereotypical or made up) culture I
put in. The Irish stereotypes really pisses me off (and to be honest I don’t
really like St. Patrick’s Day. I know, blasphem), so there are parts of me
mentioning this in here.
It had been 10 months since Y/N Y/L/N had arrived on the
scene from her native Ireland and if you said that she hadn’t stirred some
variety into the small town of Riverdale, you’d be lying.
The night after herself and her family had arrived into town,
she took a notion and fancied a burger. She found herself in your typical diner
on the edge of town.
“Hiya, how’s it going? A burger and chips please. Sorry,
fries.” You said to the dark haired lady behind the counter who smiled and you
and took your order. Looking around the diner, you saw the place was busy
enough, with one group of teenagers around her age sitting a few botths down.
They were eyeing her out of the side of their eyes. Deciding to sit down and
get out of their vantage point, Y/N pulled out a stool at the counter. Several
moments later, an older man handed her the food and she thanked him as he
looked at her with a quizzical smile. She noted they musn’t have many outsiders
come into the town.
Just as she was finishing up her meal, a figure plopped into
the seat opposite her. “Hey! I’m Veronica Lodge and I’m going to guess by the
accent and the fact I don’t recognise you that you’re new around here.” The forwardness
of the girl took you back a bit, but you laughed anyway.
“The accent stick out that much, huh? I’m Y/N” You extended
her hand to Veronica to shake.
“I love it. I grew up in New York and I’m going to guess by
the sound of it that you’re Irish?” Tilting her head at you and smiling, you
immedietley liked this girl who was quizzing you even though you had just met.
“Yes, I am. We just got in yesterday. Economy is terrible at
home so we needed a change.” Veronica nodded at you.
“Would you like to come sit with my friends? I was the only
one brave enough to come and talk to you.” You nodded eagerly, desperate to try
and make friends.
As she picked up your meal, she made your way to the booth of
teenagers who were eyeing her earlier.
“Guys, this is Y/N. She’s Irish and just moved here yesterday.
We’re her new friends.” You waved at the group and smiled a hello.
“Y/N this is Betty Cooper. Ultimate sweetheart and secret
badass.” The blonde girl waved at her as her ponytail bobbed up and down.
“This is Archie Andrews, musician and football player. Your
real-life Troy Bolton.” She smirked at the ginger boy
“Hey. Jaysus, with that hair they’ll think you’re the Irish
one, not me.” The others in the group laughed at this.
The beanie-clad boy spoke before Veronica had the chance to
“Jughead. Jones. The Third. Nice to meet you.” Y/N quirked
an eyebrow at the funny name, then realised she had heard worse at home.
Since that fateful day, much had happened. Y/N quickly
integrated herself to the group and the became fast friends, enjoying her
typical Irish sense of humour: sharp, witty and willing to take the piss out of
everything, including herself. Herself and Jughead had become very close, and
after 6 months, he kissed her and they’ve been dating ever since.
As March rolled around, so did St. Patrick’s Day, and Y/N
may not be at home but she was sure as hell going to celebrate in style. She
gathered the troops to her house and pulled out a 6 pack of cans of Guinness.
“Right lads. I’m not at home for our national holiday and I
miss it so we’re heading down to the bar. First, I got the family to send me
these over. Not the same as a good pulled pint but they’ll do. Drink up.” She
handed out the cans and as she gave Jughead his she also gave him a peck on the
“Y/N, darling, I thought you hated the Irish stereotypes of
drinking? Because, right now you’re certainly living up to it.” Kevin giggled,
taking a swig.
“Now now Keller. I may not like the stereotypes but I’m
still deeply patriotic and proud of my heritage. I don’t live up to any of the
stereotypes; I’m not ginger, a leprechaun, I hate cabbage, I DO NOT say ‘Top of the morning to you’ and I do not
have a hidden pot of gold no matter how much you ask Jug. Now c’mon, away we
go! ” Jughead laughed at his girlfriends antics but followed her anyway. He
usually hated the social scene, but, as this was a local bar and not a club; he
could do it (for Y/N at least.)
She took Jamie as
a chaser, Jack for the fun
She got Arthur on
the table, with Johnny riding as shotgun
Chatted some more,
one more drink at the bar
Then put Van on
the jukebox, got up to dance, you know
After an hour at
the bar, Y/N had everyone in the bar celebrating Ireland. The party was in full
swing with the whiskey and Guinness flowing. They were all chatting when Y/N
stood up and walked over to the jukebox. Next thing, the music changed and on
came Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison. She walked over to Jughead and with all
the strength in her body, pulled him onto the dance floor. After the song
played, the young couple played some darts and some pool, in which Y/N beat
Jughead at both. During some discussion of whether or not it was an 18 or 20
point difference between the in the darts, she pulled him in for a kiss. No
matter how many times they kissed, he still felt like they were the only two
people in the room when they did.
You know she beat me at darts and then
she beat me at pool
And then she kissed me like there was
nobody else in the room
As last orders were called, was when she
stood on the stool
After dancing to Cèilidh, singing to
I never heard Carrickfergus ever sung so
Acapella in the bar using her feet for a
Oh I could have that voice playing on
repeat for a week
And in this packed out room, swear she
was singing to me, you know
It was near
closing time when the bar had quieted down a little that a slightly tipsy
Veronica called out for Y/N to sing us an Irish song. Of course, the whole bar
had heard and everyone was now chanting “SING!” at a very red Y/N. Giving in,
she stood up on a bar stool as everyone fell quiet. Jughead was sitting right
below her perch on the stool. He realised in this moment that he had never
heard her sing.
Y/N opened her
mouth, singing Carrickfergus, and it sounded like the soft ripple of a brook
through a quiet forest. The whole bar was silent as she tapped her feet to give
herself a beat and sang without a backing tune. Her voice was smooth, silvery
and thick with emotion, with a hint of grit. Though there were over 50 people
in that room, he could have sworn it was just the two of them, as through the whole
song she never broke eye contact.
As she finished, she was met with whistles and
applause from the crowd and pure shock from her friends. After many a ‘I had no
idea you could sing’ and an incredibly bashful Y/N, she turned to Jughead.
“No idea how you
hid a voice that criminally beautiful like that from a detective like me you
lady.” She laughed at his words, throwing her head back and wrapping her arms
around his neck.
The group said
their goodbyes outside the bar, and Jughead and Y/N began to make their way
back to hers, hand in hand. Both taking a deep breath of the cool spring night
air to rid themselves of the smell of smoke, whiskey and wine that had attached
itself to their coats.
Now we’ve outstayed our welcome and it’s closing time I was holding her hand, her hand was holding mine Our coats both smell of smoke, whisky and wine As we fill up our lungs with the cold air of the night
They laughed and
joked around the whole way home, and upon reaching Y/N’s door; it was decided
that Jug would stay the night. Her parents loved him anyway so that wasn’t an
“I’m fucking starving,
do you want anything from the kitchen” She called over her shoulder.
“Me too. It’s me
Y/N, I’ll honestly eat whatever is in your kitchen and lots of it.” He heard
her glorious, melodic laugh from the other room.
She walked out
with a packet of Doritos and sat on the sofa with him.
“Jesus Jug, that
was one of the best bloody nights of my life. I can’t thank you enough for
coming with me, I know it’s not either of our scenes but I had to make an
exception for St. Patrick’s Day. I love you.” She smiled up at him from her
place beside him.
I walked her home
then she took me inside
Doritos and another bottle of wine
I swear I’m going
to put you in a song that I write
About a Galway
girl and a perfect night
“I love you too.
You know, I feel a short story coming on about tonight. A perfect girl and
perfect night. I’ll call it Galway Girl.” He laughed at her face.
“You know there
are places in Ireland apart from Galway right? I’m not even from Galway.” She
nudged his shoulder and raised an eyebrow.
Y/N. Alliteration. I have poetic license with this stuff.” Jughead smirked at
his giggling girlfriend.
“You know, I just
thought. I speak another language and I could say anything I want about you in
it.” Y/N laughed at the false scandalized look on her boyfriends face.
“Is pian so thóin
tú.” She kisses his nose as she says this.
“Does that mean ‘I
Love You’?” He cocked an eyebrow and looked at her smugly.
“No. It means
you’re a pain in the ass.” She doubled over laughing as he slapped a hand over
his heart, pretending to be wounded. She climbed onto his lap and pushed the
beanie off his head and brushed back the stray hairs. Studying his beautiful
face and staring into his eyes, she kissed him, soft and slow and filled with
“Tá mé in ngrá leat”
She whispers, foreheads touching.
“Does that mean I
love you?” He whispers back, breathlessly.
“Yes, that means I
love you.” She chuckled.
“Well then tá mé i ngrá leat as well.”
For the rest of
the night, the young couple lay in stitches, with Y/N trying to teach Jughead
her native tongue. By the end of the night, he had the important stuff down
Y/N was drifting
off to sleep, head on his chest and legs tangled together.
“Hey Y/N/N?” The
girl hummed in response.
“Tá mé i ngrá leat.” He whispered into her hair.
A smile broke out
on the girls face, as she felt so at home in this boy’s arms, and he felt the
“Tá mé i ngrá leat freisin.” And with those final words whispered, the young couple
drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.
Reasons I think Fablehaven is a grossly underappreciated series
I’ve been a huge fan of this series ever since my parents bought me the books about 8 years ago or so, but sadly, in the light of the final novels for the Harry Potter series making their debut, other fantasy novels were lost to the wind in the tidal wave of fame HP received. So I’m just going to make a big appreciation post for one of the greatest novel series of all time (in my opinion - and I’m going to keep it as spoiler free as possible). If you read this series, or heard of it, you might understand what I talk about, and you are now my friend.
Here’s a list of things that, as a writer, I appreciate:
The story context. The idea of a preserve for magical creatures is just baller, okay? Tell me that doesn’t sound epic.
The protagonists. Not only are there two main protagonists, who share the attention of the plotline equally, but they are also SIBLINGS. The brother, Seth, is a bit of a troublemaker, and is the catalyst for a lot of crazy interactions (though he rarely takes things too far if he can help it). He’s got high levels of sass, and his lines are some of the best I’ve ever seen in writing. He’s enjoyable, but also knows when it’s time to cut the crap. Since he’s rarely serious, that makes the impact all the greater when he DOES get his act together. Kendra, the older sister by one year, is a stickler for keeping to the rules, but will often cave in and follow her brother around at the promise of a little fun, even though most of the time she’s making sure he just doesn’t hurt himself. While more sensitive than her brother in some cases, she’s often the stronger of the two, in that she gets. Sh*t. DONE. It is so rare for me to find novels and written works that have protagonists who are also close siblings and maintain their relationship as brother and sister realistically throughout the series, and their personalities bounce off of each other SO WELL. They’re easy to follow, but still intelligent. A good balance that respects the characters as well as the reader for not dumbing down their speech when unnecessary.
The writing. The style is beautiful, it absolutely paints pictures in your head. Which is great, since actual illustrations are hardly ever present in the book - only 2-3 full-page images per book that aren’t the small titlecards to the chapter at the top of the page, which only serve the purpose of showing the location of the current chapter. A lot of care and attention went into the writing of these novels - the pacing is perfect to keep you absorbed and not bore you, but also not too fast so as to be throwing things at you when you need a break from the insanity. And trust me. There will be insanity.
The Fables. They’re not technically called ‘Fables’ in the books, it’s just easier for me to call them that - in reality, I’m referring to EVERY SINGLE FANTASTICAL CREATURE. Not just the classics - demons, dragons, fairies, centaurs - but also the incredible variety and the sheer scale of it all. Fablehaven incorporates legends from all over the world, it truly gives you the feeling that there is magic everywhere, to the point where you almost can’t escape it. I swear to god, I started checking everywhere to look for magical animals when I was done reading these novels, and I was sixteen when I finished them - these books are that good, people. Egyptian/African mythological creatures? Got ‘em. Native American legends? Those too. Australian terrors? Yep. Nordic mythical creatures? Absolutely. Outlandish and surreal new monsters you haven’t thought of? Definitely. You want it? Fablehaven probably has it.
The risk. There is no pussyfooting around with this series. They establish right away in the very first book that literally anything can kill you. ANYTHING. Clay golem = deadly as hell. Water nymphs = oh their goal in life is to kill you because it’s ‘funny’. Fairies = mess with them, they will wreck your shit. Cursed plants = have been known to leave no survivors. Floating balloon-like bulbs = yeah those are filled with an extremely acidic gas that will fill the air instantly and melt you like butter if they pop, which can happen if you so much as touch them. The sense of danger being everywhere is very potent, and keeps you on edge for something to go down all the time.
The villains. Oh, there’s no way in hell I’m telling you who the villains are. Because you will never see it coming when you find out. Half of the series, you don’t even know who the villains are, and sometimes you even question which is morally right or wrong. Which makes it all the more disturbing when you find out who. But I will tell you this. The villains are some of the most bone-chilling I’ve ever read about, and this is coming from a second-year college student. This isn’t Scooby Doo, kiddies. The author doesn’t BS around and treats it as real life, and by god does it work.
The plot twists. Once again, I ain’t telling you jack. You have to find out for yourself. The writers and editors for these books were geniuses. Only when you hit the plot twists and the bombs are dropped on you do you realize that they were being hinted to at all.
THE MOTHERF%$#ING DRAGONS. DUDE. Fablehaven has one of the BEST. THE BEST. INTERPRETATION OF DRAGONS I’VE EVER SEEN. Dragons aren’t just beasts to be slain, or ridden like steeds - the dragons are magical beings of incredible power, revered and allowed to live freely in secret magical preserves. Not because they’re hunted, oh no. Because if they were allowed to be released into the world, they would cause massive chaos when attacked by humans who don’t understand them. The dragons are NOT to be trifled with - in fact, if you tried to ride one, they would kill you on the spot. To put a skeleton of one on display is practically blasphemous, so trophy hunters beware. And since their powers vary by species and individual, they aren’t just stereotypical firebreathers. There’s dragons who can turn into human form, there’s dragons who are made entirely of poison to the point where being in the same room as them would be instant death, dragons who can do nothing but turn invisible, even a six-legged Quetzalcoatl-like dragon who breathes a gas that forces people to tell the truth. Just. Mother. F*&^ing. DRAGONS.
The Fairy Trader. If you’re not even slightly amused by the fact that the magical preserve owners purchase and trade fairies with an Indiana Jones-type guy whose job is to travel the world and capture rare fairies to swap like Pokemon cards, our friendship is in jeopardy.
The drama. The moments when shit starts to get real, I can guarantee you will never forget. I can recall every moment from every book when things started getting heavy and dangerous, practically by heart. I draw a lot of inspiration from them, too. And harkening back to the variety of magical creatures that I mentioned before, that gives me a LOT of great source material from around the world.
And these are just some of the things! I can’t tell you any more of the things I want to gush about because they would be spoilers. But if this post doesn’t at least poke at your interest, well, I enjoyed writing it anyway.
“your face is extremely close and i cant concentrate” au. I can so see the potential for some soma :3
Thanks so much for the prompt, OT! @makapedia sent me the same one at almost the same time, so clearly it was fate.
Also, makapedia is my betababe eternal. Thank you for your eyes and for your italics enabling :)
We’re All Scrambling Read it here: FFN | AO3 Rated T for language, suggestive situations and Soul’s perpetual suffering. Summary: Soul hates the library, but he loves naps. Unfortunately, Maka needs a very specific book, and he’s in the way.
No matter what @jukeboxx-and-wrekkord says, don’t believe them. This is entirely their fault and I will not be held responsible for it.
In seriousness. There is one thing that I think a lot of us, if not most of us, can agree on: Seto Kaiba has a lot of healing to do. He has so many different wounds, from so many different battles, and I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to say that the man could use a good cry.
It’s cathartic. It’s part of the process. It’s healthy.
But that begs the question … what would drive Seto Kaiba to tears? And with whom would he feel secure enough to let them fall?
I believe that I have found the answer.
was a ritual. There was no other label that suited the grim suspense with which
Seto went about the process of … revealing the truth.
The ritual hadn’t started as anything serious. Yugi had, in a moment of oblivious
appreciation, simply asked why Seto didn’t “show off” more often. He’d meant it
as a half-jibe, half-compliment. After all, it wasn’t like he could be blamedfor noticing his boyfriend’s “attributes.”
It seemed to Yugi that someone as
spotlight-hungry as Seto so often was, or at least projected himself to be,
would take satisfaction in having people appreciate
his looks, as surely they would.
But here they were, half past midnight,
and Seto looked like he’d just come home from a funeral.
a few working theories on why Lotor wasn’t seen in the Zarkon & Honerva/Haggar flashbacks:
1) the way that one Galra talked about Lotor’s generals being “half-breeds” like it was a negative thing… makes me think Galras don’t like inter-species dating / breeding so Zarkon & Honerva having a child would have been seen as blasphemous so they kept Lotor a secret and prolly even sent him away. (Alteans might have had same mindset too.)
2) honestly i can see Honerva being the type to think a child was getting in the way of her work (esp as time went on) so she ignored him and Zarkon didn’t really care either so they sent Lotor away to be raised by other people or in an orphanage or something
3) i just read this post about Quintessence and how the Galra used to have yellow eyes with pupils and now they don’t / look different, so Zarkon probably introduced Quintessence to his people and that’s why they look like they do now… except Lotor doesn’t. he still has yellow eyes and pupils like Zarkon once did. so what if Zarkon sent baby Lotor away during one last clear-minded, good-hearted effort to protect his only son from Quintessence, so Lotor wouldn’t suffer the same fate as Honerva?
the biggest question regardless is if Lotor was sent away / hidden, why and when did Zakon ‘reclaim’ him as his son? (perhaps he didn’t, perhaps it was angsty teenage Lotor who opened his big mouth and told everyone that he was Zarkon’s son? or perhaps Zarkon realized he would never get Honerva back so he reclaimed the last piece from his pre-quintessence past? a link to Honerva? another possible reason why he never exposed Lotor to Quintessence)
Warnings: Steve’s truly foul language Wordcount: 1,319 Notes: Tony’s not the only one who can be a hot mess. For the Stony Bingo Prompt “language.”
Tony lets himself into Steve’s apartment without knocking, and revels for a moment just inside the door, savoring the fact that they’ve grown so close. His little fire hiccup has done wonders for their relationship, and Tony’s never really felt this way about anyone before. He’s thinking about asking Steve to move in; he knows his apartment has the better light, and it’s bigger, too. They could convert his parts storage room into a studio and rent out a storage space so that Tony isn’t forever dragging motor oil over every surface. Steve probably wouldn’t like motor oil on his paintings.
It’s as he’s letting go of the door handle that he hears it.
“Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck kind of a call was that, ump? Are you blind? Good god, you scum sucking two timing traitor asshole. Did you not see the ball? Fuck me, this is terrible.”
Oh, so we got a bitch and a liar here? Chef Ramsey doesn’t like my food, huh? So we got a blasphemer and a false prophet here, huh? Chef Ramsay dosent know what the fuck or shit he is talking about and I’m personally about to knock him out cold with my massive ballsack.