warnings: mildly creepy guys, standard protective bf methods
Jasonâs good at shutting people up very quickly. Youâd almost call it a talent.
He shuts you up with a kiss when you get stuck in a rant, or with a hug to calm your worried rambles.
And when youâre in an incorrigibly teasing mood, heâll throw you over his shoulder and carry you back to your bedroom to really shut you up.
With other people though, he hasâŚdifferent methods.
You sit atop your kitchen counter, trading lazy kisses in between giggles with your boyfriend. He stands in front of you, hands massaging your thighs as he leans in for another. You happily oblige.
You break off the exchange to lay a series of sweet kisses on that spot under his jaw.
His head tilts back, letting out a groan so low you nearly miss it. âSweetheartâŚâ he warns.
âSorryâŚâ you resign with a sheepish smile.
A knock at the door bursts you out of your shared reverie. You press a kiss to his knuckles and hop down to start setting the table.
Jason gets the door, greeting the pizza guy with a nod as you shuffle around the kitchen. The delivery guy hands him a receipt, asking for a signature.
Jason uses the door as a surface to sign, giving the delivery guy an apt view into your apartment, where he sees you getting out plates in the kitchen. More noticeably, he sees you in your boyfriend's shirt, which rides up just a little bit when you stand up on your toes to reach the top cabinet. The lift of the shirt exposes the bottom of your underwear, though it falls back into place again just as quickly.
Now, lucky for this guy, Jasonâs facing the door and does not see him checking you out in your own home. Unlucky for this guy, he has wildly misread the vibe of your relationship. Or at least your boyfriend.
âMan, how do you get anything done around here?â He jests.
Jason looks up at him, and the pizza manâs eyes tear away from your legs to meet his hard gaze. It does not take him long to realize his mistake.
âTry again.â Jason behests, arms crossed in front of him.
The pizza boyâs eyes go wide and he shakes his head, stuttering. âIâuh, I said have a good night.â
âMhm.â He grumbles.
The pizza guy hands Jason the box with shaky hands and scuttles back down the hallway.
Thankfully, you didnât seem to notice the exchange, but even so, your boyfriend still glowers down the hallway after him.
âJay?â
His attention snaps back to you, demeanor changing instantly. âYeah, baby?â
Youâre sitting in your usual spot at the table, his chair empty and waiting just around the corner from you.
âCome sit.â You say, with eyes that might as well be hearts.
He gives a reassuring nod and kicks the door shut behind him.
You and Jason are sitting on the floor in his old room at the manor, your legs thrown over his. You lean up against his bed, asking him about posters on the walls and trinkets on the shelves.
His knee is propped up and your arm dangles across it, his hand in yours. He plays with your fingers and periodically leans forward to leave a kiss on them.
Youâd just woken up less than an hour ago after spending the night post-gala, and itâs a peaceful, if not unusually quiet morning.
Dick shouts your name from another room, audibly booking it towards you. Yeah. Thatâs more like what Jason remembers.
He grumbles some annoyances, dropping his head against your intertwined hands.
Dick bursts into the room, clearly incredibly excited.
âWhatâs up, Dick?â You ask, calm as ever. Jason lets an unseen smile creep up, head still down.
Dickâs practically jumping up and down, âYou gotta see the shit that Tim just found in the cave!â His face drops as he directs his gaze to Jason, âYouâre not invited.â
âThank God.â
Dick ignores him and grabs your wrist, yanking you up from the floor. This is one place where he differs from Jasonâheâs not always quite so aware of his own strength.
His grip doesnât hurt really, but itâs firm enough that you imagine thereâll be bruise marks there later.
âHey.â Jason calls out, nodding his head to where Dick is holding your arm. âEase up.â
Dick follows his gaze and immediately loosens his hold, apologizing to you before pulling you along once again (this time much more gentle).
You grin at Jason as he tugs you out the door, him returning it with an endeared smile as he watches you go.
Fuck he loves you.
Jason had a decent break from his night job for once, and was happy to let you drag him out to a bar for a little date. Youâd been linked at the hip for most of the night, his hands maintaining their ever present home on your waist with yours rested on his thighs as you told him about your hectic day.
Heâd usually prefer to stay in bed with you for as long as possible when he gets time off, but youâd looked so excited asking him to go out with youâhe never stood a chance.
You look up into the mirror as you wash your hands, a strand of hair falling into your face as you do. You push it back behind your ear and smile to yourself, recalling the several times Jason had wordlessly done the same throughout the night as you rambled.
You make your way back to the bar, smile immediate on your face when you see your boyfriend. It gets replaced rather quickly though, when a man slides in front of you, cutting off your view of him.
âHey there.â
You have to take a step back because of how close he decided to stand to you. He looks sober (enough) but wildly overconfident in whatevers about to happen.
"Let me buy you a drink, pretty thing."
Jason calls you pretty thing sometimes. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks and an inescapable smile creep up on your lips. When this guy says it, it makes you literally frown.
"Oh no, I'm okay, myâ"
"You seem like a dirty martini kinda girl." He expertly ignores you, clearly trying and failing to make some kind of innuendo there.
Jason's sitting back against the bar, watching the interaction carefully. You still canât see him, but heâs close and you can rest comfortable knowing heâs looking out for you.
With that reassurance, you donât play this out quite as carefully as you would if you were alone.
"Look, I don't want a drink from you, thanks."
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him because his face contorts quickly to mock-disgust that you figure is really just embarrassment.
âHey, donât be a bitch just âcauseââ
You try to sidestep around him, thoroughly done with this interaction, but he grabs your upper arm harshly, pulling you to an abrupt stop.
Jason stands up real quick, yanking the guy backwards by his collar before you can even process what's happening.
Now, you know that Jason is an objectively intimidating guy. There's not many people that will come face to face with that absolute unit of a man and still decide to keep on trying him. However, you tend to forget that when you're so used to your gentle giant that only ever speaks to you kindly and touches you softly.
But his intimidating status becomes very apparent when the guy spins around, looks up at Jason, and immediately takes four steps back. He actually almost bumps into you in the process, not doing anything to tame Jasonâs acute distaste for this man.
"Listen to meâback the fuck off before you get hurt."
âSheââ
âI donât give a fuck. Leave.â
The guy hesitates.
âNow.â Jason adjusts his posture to stand at his staggering full height, clearly with no qualms about putting him back in his place.
That does it for him, the man stumbllng away with half-committed mumbles of âwhateverâ or âsomething something lame anyway.â
Jason watches him until he walks out the door, before turning back to you.
He delicately takes your upper arm in his hand, pulling your sleeve up to search for bruising. But as harshly as he had grabbed you, it didnât have the time to cause a bruise before Jason intervened.
âWhatâd he say to you?â Jason asks, brow furrowed as he inspects your arm.
âNothing very interesting.â He looks at you mildly.
You smile and comb his hair back from his forehead, âDonât worry about him. Iâm good.â
He lets your arm go, and exchanges it for holding the back of your head, planting a kiss on your forehead.
You take his other hand and guide him back to your seats.
âBesides,â You look over his shoulder and let out a little shocked gasp. âGuess who just walked in.â
He gives you a questioning look before his face slacks, eyes widening in realization.
âNoâŚâ And you smile so brightly it almost makes up for what's coming his way.
You redirect your smile over his shoulder and give a wave to the door. Jason swigs down the rest of his drink, hand finding your waist once again.
âJaybird!â
Jasonâs still exhausted from patrol last night but heâd insisted on going with you to the bar to meet your friends. Youâd tried to convince him that it was okay to stay in and rest tonight, youâd be fine. But it was a losing battle.
You suspect it has something to do with him not liking when you go out in Gotham at night, especially when youâre drinking.
So he hangs out in the background of the buzz, with you sat in front of him, in between his legs.
Youâre talking it up with Roy, whoâs been making jokes about how Jasonâs âmoody assâ tricked you, âthe ray of sunshineâ into this relationship somehow.
You laugh, taking a sip of your drink. âRight, âcause you and Kori were in love at first sight.â
"Oh, fuck off." Roy jeers.
He doesn't say it with the cadence of a joke, but it is.
You know he's joking, he knows he's joking.
Jason, who very well may have been tuned out of the conversation up to that point, does not seem to know he's jokingâor he doesn't care.
You don't need to look behind you to know that your boyfriend is in defensive mode, though the look of regret mixed with amusement on Roy's face gives a solid hint.
You hold your hand out to block Jason his path as he moves forward. He lets you stop him, though you're certain he could get past you without so much as blinking, no problem.
"Right. My bad, forgot your guard dog was here. Don't fuck off." Roy backtracks, hands up in front of him.
Jason just rolls his eyes, slouching back down. You reach behind you for his hand, giving it two squeezes. You know heâs tired, so much so that he almost punched his best friend for making a typical joke.
âFive more minutes, okay?â You say softly over your shoulder.
He nods at you blearily, and ducks his head down to rest on your back. You adjust your posture a little bit to make it more comfortable for him and continue on talking, his hand still in yours.
If he hadnât fallen asleep so quickly, five minutes wouldâve been five minutes, but instead it became something more like fifty.
He goes through patches where sleep isnât always so welcoming, a phase heâs been in for the past couple of weeks. Youâd been waking up to find the bed half empty, your boyfriend resigned to doing research on cases in an attempt to at least be productive while heâs awake.
You canât protect him in the same ways that he protects youâyouâre not a fighter or necessarily âintimidating.â But you can protect him like this, in these little ways. Letting him nap on you, making him close the case files and rest with you, holding his hand throughout the night so that when he inevitably has nightmares, he knows immediately that youâre still with him. That heâs safe.
So if he can get some much needed sleep while only costing you a stiff back tomorrow, youâll happily take that deal as many times as he needs.
It sure is! I wish that the main fighting force of the Palestinian freedom fighters wasnât a fundamentalist right-wing group. But whose fault is that? Why are there so few organizations other than Hamas fighting for Gazaâs freedom? Hamas is in power because Israel funded Hamas to fight against the secular movements in Palestine. If Israel didnât want terrorists killing civilians, they shouldnât have created them.
Just for you, my reader who doesnât believe me or just wants sources, I have some! In the article I have linked below, it shows all this, and also gives quotes from senior Israeli officials, including the former Israeli military governor of Gaza! Itâs a quick read, and I recommend it.
Hamas wants to destroy Israel, right? But as Mehdi Hasan shows in a new video on blowback, Israeli officials admit they helped start the gro
I swear to fucking god. Going by current events: if half the braindead liberals with no ideological basis on this website had been around in the 1600s, they would've seen shit like this going around and IMMEDIATELY sided with Britain or started both-sidesing the situation.
You are aware that Jewish people are very much indigenous to this area? That there is a reason they are diasporic in other parts of the world? That the historic homeland has been conquered and fought over again and again and again after it had been decidedly settled by them? Don't get me wrong, what's going on there is horrific, but I could not let this misinformation stand. However I feel like setting a timer (if that's what you are doing) on people's indeginity, when they can clearly trace their heritage back there over thousands of years beyond the shadow of a doubt, both genetically and culturally, sets a dangerous precedent.
While researching an answer to this question, I came across a great online collection of resource which answers all those questions and more! https://decolonizepalestine.com/
To simply summarise my answer to your question though, Palestinians are, in fact, indigenous to Palestine. They descend, like Jews, from ancient Canaanites, and although they were (relatively) recently "arabised" they remain indigenous to the region.
Zionists, citing this ancient providence and ignoring that of the Palestinians, has used this as justification to invade the land and reconstitute the global diaspora in a settler-colonial occupation, physically taking Palestinians' land and homes, and forcing them into brutal apartheid. This was all facilitated by the imperial powers, the largest of those in terms of material aid being the U.S.A.
They even extend this invitation in a sense; internationally, people such as myself may aquire citizenship in this settler-colonial project. Of course, for these reasons I would never accept, and would effectively be making myself a Wehrbauer for the USAmerican Empire anyway.
This colonisation of Palestine and artificial re-creation of Israel, built directly off of the subjugation and removal of Palestinians from their native land, cannot and will not stand.
the cognitive dissonance from people who want the products of modern medicine but get weird about animal research. like im sorry but this is necessary for the survival of the society we currently live in. and the scientists who work on these things are not evil cackling psychopaths. anyone you talk to in animal research has incredibly complex feelings about their work and incredibly complex relationships to the animals in their care. there are regulations and oversight and penalties in place to make the work as humane as possible and scientists are overwhelmingly the ones enforcing and advocating for better care.
This was someoneâs first dsmp stream in Tommyâs chat
He started farming as soon as he logged on, like always
Tubbo got in a boat and span around again. Tommy used autotune to sing âyou spin me right roundâ
Tubbo nearly shot Shroud
This is what How To Sex says
Tommy and Tubbo blew up the Hotel which also resulted in McPuffyâs getting blown up and Puffy was shook
Tommy set shroud free
I skipped over most to the stuff with Dream but Tommy was given op and he spawned ghasts on tubbo and Sam
He went to Technoâs house and found a Cat disc in one of his chests. This broke me.
Tommy spoke about how logsted felt really grungey and different to the rest of the server because of how there was nothing there
George nearly slept through it
In True dsmp Fashion getting the end portal to work was scuffed
Callahan kept spawning withers in The End
Tubbo got the final hit on the ender dragon
Tommy and Tubbo met in vc2 at the bench and listened to music
Tommy has an irl âyour tubboâ compass
Exile was one of his favourite arcs
His favourite quote is âI have The Bladeâ
His only question for us is if we have ever sat and chatted to our friends about it
This server has been my hyperfixation since the beginning of 2021. Unfortunately I joined ag the end of the âgolden ageâ as it were. But Iâve made hopefully lifelong friends through this stupid block roleplay, and the characters and story mean the world for me and will forever. I know this fandom is going to get smaller now. I know people will move on. But I think Iâll be here for a few more years.
Dream SMP, thank you for helping me fall in love with stories again. Thank you for helping me grow in my own writing and in my artwork. Thank you for being here when I needed you, thank you for getting me through these last few years. Thank you for giving me characters I could love and relate to, who feel more real than anything else. And thank you for introducing me to creators I will forever love.
"Listeners, as I speak we are winding down to the final hours of a momentous occasion. For the second time, I am a contender for some sort of internet sexy gentleman award. An award for which I will gain nothing but online clout and the value of which--as far as I know--is not fungible in any known countries, dimensions, or time paradoxes. As before, everything comes down to the results of an internet poll. Truly the greatest tool of democracy, with the exception of those neat little 'I voted' stickers."
"But the outcome of this poll is of little concern to me. Because right now the sexiest man I know is at home, fast asleep on our couch. Curled up on his steadily rising chest is a cat that is there but is not there. The TV remote control is steadily slipping out of his hand. He is snoring now, but moments before, that man was watching the Last of Us show before falling asleep. Except not really because zombie stories frustrate him because they 'aren't based in science, Cecil,' and 'I've already synthesized five different antidotes in the event of a zombie outbreak, Cecil.' But he will watch the episodes anyway, because he knows I love zombie flicks, and I am scared of zombie flicks. And he will let me know when I should avert my eyes before a jumpscare is about to happen. How can you get any sexier than that?"
"A wise man at Ace Hardware Store once imparted these wise words: 'Measure twice, cut once.' He said this as he was purchasing a lot of plywood, so I'm assuming he had measured once, realized he had made an error after cutting and had to get more material--but his words still ring true. A poll measured once only reveals a snippet of what makes a sexyman sexy. It does not delve into the depth of legacy, the weight of experience, the height of thirst. Sexiness comes in many shapes and sizes. It takes two to tango, and three to cut a mango. And that's why I never cut my fruit alone."
"Listeners, I hope that after tonight, when all is said and done, you take a moment to look in the mirror, wave to the faceless woman staring back at you, and appreciate the tumblr sexyman that was inside all of us, all along. Good night, Night Vale. Good night. "
Sarah was bad at flirting. Like, real bad. Past attempts at flirting usually led to the other person asking Sarah if she was okay.
When Sarah was abducted, she didnât know what to do. She had no upper body strength so fighting was out of the question. Her grades in school had been average and she had a Liberal Arts degree, so figuring out the alien technology also seemed like a no-go.
The aliens scanned her body, took tissue and blood samples. When they attempted to remove her clothes, Sarah blurted out, âWhy donât you buy me dinner first, jeez.â
The aliens stopped and considered what she said. One adjusted a dial on their collar.
âWhat would you like to eat?â
âYou can understand me?â
âYes.â
Sarah weighed her options. If she was going to get probed, she might as well get a free meal out of it.
âAre we still near Earth?â
âYes, but we can replicate your human food onboard.â
âSo, you can make anything I want?â
âYes.â
Sarah thought long and hard. She was curious to see how long the aliens would keep this going.
âMy grandmother made a great baked ziti.â
âOne moment.â
The aliens put a helmet on Sarah.
âWhat is grandmotherâs baked ziti?â they asked.
Sarah thought about her grandmother and family dinners before her parents divorced. She remembered watching her grandmother dance around the kitchen, the smell of the sauce she made from scratch. Sarah decided to answer the aliens as literally as she could.
âZiti is a type of pasta noodle and it is covered in a tomato based sauce and cheese. Sometimes there is meat.â
âUnderstood.â
The aliens removed the helmet and gestured her to follow them as they exited the room. When they entered the hallway, Sarah saw an opportunity to escape. But what would she be returning to?
Sarahâs life was boring. All she did was work and arrange her Pinterest board with places she would never go to and a life she would never get. Her only dates were pity dates set up by friends who felt sorry for her. She didnât even have a cat.
Sarah followed the aliens through the ship. She saw other aliens stop and stare at her through open doors. Some even came out into the hallways to gawk.
Her captors led Sarah into a noisy room that looked like a cafeteria. All alien noise stopped the moment Sarah appeared. It was an awkward silence followed by a flurry of activity. Tables were pushed together, chairs rearranged, tablecloths appeared out of nowhere.
The tablecloths and dishes looked familiar to Sarah, but she couldnât place them until the food started coming out of what she assumed was the kitchen. The smell hit her like a semi-truck. It was her grandmotherâs baked ziti.
The food was served family style. Each table had been arranged to fit 7-9 people. There was salad, garlic bread, baked ziti and real Parmesan cheese. Sarah started crying.
âIs this not correct?â
âNo, itâs all correct. Iâm just overwhelmed.â
âWe tend to have that effect on humans,â said a new voice. âBut your tears seemâŚcomplicated.â
Sarah laughed. âComplicated would be the right word.â She wiped away her tears to get a better look at the alien who had taken a seat at the head of the table. âI take it youâre the one in charge here?â
The alien seemed embarrassed. âIs it that obvious?â
The others at the table seemed to be laughing. âOur Lord-Lady likes to think of themselves as a Commoner, but they forget that their royal upbringing makes them present much differently than the rest of us,â said the alien to Sarahâs left.
âLord-Lady? Is that your title?â Sarah asked.
âItâs the closest thing we can translate it to in your language. You can call me Rexina.â
âIâm Sarah.â
Rexina smiled. âIt is nice to meet you, Sah Rah. Now, tell us about this food we are about to eat.â
Sarah told the table about the food, and her grandmother. She told them about life on Earth and how she had never fit in. Sarah asked the aliens about their world, space travel, what they thought about humans. She was so engaged in the conversation with Rexina that she didnât even notice that the cafeteria had emptied.
âWe should go,â Rexina said. âThe cleaning crew has been glaring at us for a while.â
Sarah saw that she and Rexina were the only diners left. She reluctantly got up, not wanting the conversation to end. Rexina was the most interesting person she had ever met and talking to them was so easy.
They exited the cafeteria together and stood awkwardly in the hallway.
âI guess I should get back to work,â Rexina said.
âAnd I guess I should go back toâŚbeing experimented on?â
âOh!â Rexina again looked embarrassed. âSorry about the wholeâŚkidnappingâŚthing.â
âItâs okay. I mean, itâs not okay to kidnap people, but Iâm not judging anditmeansthatIgottomeetyousoitwasworthit.â Sarah turned away, blushing, and started walking determinedly away. She didnât care if it was the right direction, she just needed to get away from the situation she just created.
âSah Rah! Wait!â
Sarah took off running and ran straight into a wall.
Rexina quickly arrived at her side.
âAre you alright?â
âYup, just totally embarrassed.â
âNo need to be. Our ship can be very confusing,â Rexina paused thoughtfully. âWould you like a tour?â
Even through the embarrassment, Sarah knew she would do anything to spend more time with Rexina. She agreed to a tour, which turned into dinner, and by then it was late so Rexina offered her their bunk.
âBut where will you sleep?â
âI can put some bedding in my office, it will be fine. Iâm not sure I would be able to sleep anyway.â
âMe neither. Maybe we should keep hanging out until we get tired?â
And so they did. They talked for hours until they fell asleep nestled against each other.
âââ
Days turned into weeks. Rexina found new ways to avoid returning Sarah to the Processing Room, even though they passed it regularly. Sarah was given a uniform and the shipâs tailor adjusted it to her human form.
Rexina took Sarah on trips down to Earth and was amazed that Sarah had seen so little of her own planet. Together they explored the deserts, mountains, rainforests and tundra. Sarah learned that humans were not the only life forms taken up to the spaceship.
âItâs what you humans would call âCatch and Relaseâ. We try not to harm anything living, though we have made mistakes. The most important thing is that we learn from those mistakes.â
Sarah discovered that Rexinaâs people had been studying the Earth for centuries. Rexina laughed as she revealed that the idea of âlittle green menâ versus âgrey menâ had been competing experiments by two doctoral candidates.
Rexina learned a lot from Sarah as well. They learned the mundanity of every day life as Sarah wrapped up her life on Earth. After selling what she could and donating what she couldnât, Sarah was left with a suitcase and a duffel.
âI can make more room for you,â Rexina said.
âItâs fine, I have everything I need,â Sarah said, reaching out to hold one of Rexinaâs hands.
âââ
Weeks turned into months. Sarah did her best to learn Rexinaâs language but her mouth couldnât form certain sounds.
âStop laughing at me.â
âI canât help it, your face is so cute!â
They were on the return journey to Rexinaâs home planet. Royalty didnât usually participate in the expeditions to other planets, but Rexina was uncomfortable as a royal. They wanted to prove that they were capable of earning their way through life. They had been met with resistance at first, but Rexina proved themselves. The shipâs crew would gladly follow Rexina wherever they led, even if it was being marooned on a distant planet because their Captain had fallen in love with a human.
âWhat if your parents donât like me?â
âTheyâre going to love you.â
âHumans canât even accept other humans with different skin colors. Why would your parents accept another species?â
âThatâs why humans have never traveled past their own moon.â
Both Sarah and the crew had their worries assuaged by the welcome waiting for them. The Emperor and Emperor-Consort had arranged a week long celebration welcoming their child back home and to welcome Sarah into their family.
âOur species partners for life, did you know that?â asked the Emperor-Consort over dinner.
âMaternal Father, please do not embarrass me.â
âIâm just asking questions. You never bring anyone home so this one must be special.â
Sarah smiled joyfully. She adored Rexinaâs family and they adored her.
âââ
Months turned to years. Rexina and Sarah were married with a traditional bonding ceremony. The Emperor cried louder than anyone at the ceremony.
Years turned to decades. Sarah developed into her role in the Royal Court. Rexina and Sarah adopted what they thought was the Earth equivalent of a house cat but ended up being a small, furry, sentient being. The creature was legally designated as their child and they adopted more children, the orphans and outcasts of the galaxy. They took their children on expeditions around the Universe and raised them to be kind and generous leaders.
Being royalty was still the furthest thing from their minds but they returned home permanently as the Emperors grew older. Rexina ascended the throne while their parents still lived. During the coronation, Sarah smiled at her life partner and their children. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined where she would end up. Sarah was happy.
instead of hate watching velma we should all pretend weâve never seen scooby doo 2001, that it was just released tonight, & rewatch it. tag ur spoilers besties
⌠And thatâs why you canât trust paperclips. What else could they be hiding but a thirst for human flesh? This has been traffic.
Now, an update on the ongoing situation at the.. One second. A blood red envelope has just been slid across my desk by some unknown force, stopping conveniently right in front of me. Letâs see what it says.
[sound of paper tearing]
uh huh. mhm. ah. oh? hmm⌠i see. okay.
Listeners, it appears that in order to boost ratings for the program, station management has entered me into a âsexy man competitionâ. This is a normal thing for your employer to do and is in no way overstepping any boundaries. It says here that my first opponent will be a âslender manâ. Well. Many men can be described as slender, so to lay claim to the title of âslender manâ, this man must be extremely slender indeed. I asked Carlos what the smallest thing in the universe is the other day, and he said âhm. Probably the amount of time you spend doing the dishes.â So there you have it! This slender man must have an approximate width of ten minutes per week.
The letter does not list a time or place, only the words âdonât look⌠or it takes youâ written in pink gel pen. Thereâs also a drawing of a crying anime boy next to it. Hey, thatâs quite good. Itâs nice to see station management making use of that How to Draw Manga book I got them for national zipper day.
###
Now an update on the ongoing situation at the community roller skating rink. For those just tuning in, the rink has been occupied by angry ice skaters for the past week, yelling things like âif god had meant us to roll he would have created us in the image of a bright red Ford Fiesta Mark IV with a missing taillight and the number plate SIV384â and âwe love knives. bring back knives!â When asked for comment, skating rink owner Teddy Williams stated that âknives never leftâ, gesturing to a gaping wound in his side before being pulled once again into the crowd of vicious ice skaters, many of whom were wielding their sharp boots like weapons. I hate to speculate, but I think that wound was probably caused by the roller derby team. Some of those youngsters need to learn to look where theyâre going!
###
Another note has been passed onto my desk. This one says âalways watches, no eyesâ. This time, itâs written in purple. We must have run out of pink gel pens again. Wait, it looks like thereâs more on the back. âWe know itâs you whoâs been using up all the pink gel pens to write your romantic slam poetry. We are all sick of hearing you rhyme âgiant fistâ with 'scientistâ. Also, 'police chief Martin Brody stared into eccentric and roughened local professional shark fisherman Sam Quintâs eyes/he felt a tingling in his thighsâ does not scan. SignedâŚâ Oh. Thatâs a lot of signatures. Thatâs⌠[sound of flipping through many pages] yeah. A lot of signatures. Much to think about. And while I do that thinking, let me take you now to-
[the sound of a letter being slid across wood]
Another one? Has your point not been made? Must you further ridicule my craft? Iâm sorry that my purposeful subversion of the norms of the medium as a meta-commentary on the forbidden love between Quint and Martin in Jaws (1975) *didnât scan*. Iâm sorry that you wouldnât know real art if it hit you in the- I have just been hit in the face by another letter. I think this may be a sign that I should read these.
This first one says âleave me aloneâ. This is exactly what I have been saying! Leave me alone! A great writer has a gentle, sensitive soul that requires solitude and peace, not unwanted criticism from certain interns (Maureen) who will remain here unnamed (Maureen Johnson). Whatâs the second one. Oh, this is just a page of tree drawings. Well, if weâre doing the whole âconstructive criticismâ thing, I think these drawings are highly unrealistic. The trees arenât even screaming! They donât even have thousands of unblinking, bloodshot eyes. To forget such important details is sheer laziness. Speaking of sheer laziness, another four letters just got dropped onto my desk, and I would rather be eating my lunch than reading them right now. Letâs check in on the weather.
There is a stranger outside my window. He is tall and neatly dressed. His face is as smooth and white as the inside of a shell, if the shell you are looking inside of is both smooth and white. If it isnât, then his face is the opposite of that shell. Actually, picture an egg. His face is like the egg of a blue-throated hummingbird. One of you is imagining a chicken egg. Stop that.
He has been waiting politely for me to finish my lunch. I have now finished my lunch, and he is now waiting far less politely. I think he wants me to read the rest of the letters. Suddenly, I do not want to read the rest of the letters. I do not want to read the rest of the letters! He is being very insistent. I am trying not to look at him. All this talk of letters has reminded me that we havenât had âHey there, Cecilâ in a while, so why donât weâŚ
[banging on glass]
Okay. Okay. I am a reporter. I must report. I am opening the fifth letter. I have unsealed the envelope. I am pulling out the paper. I hold the paper in my hands. I am looking very intently at the potted geranium on the other side of my office. It has grown seven feet since last week, but still has not reached its advertised height of three miles, fifteen inches. I wonder if I have been over-watering it. I am looking at the ceiling. It is not there. It has not been there since last month, when it was destroyed by a giant flying- well, you remember. You listen every day, donât you? I wonât insult your intelligence by providing a recap. I am looking at the photos on my desk. I am looking at my empty sandwich wrapper and my draw full of equally empty pink gel pens. I am looking anywhere but the paper.
I am looking at the man on the other side of the glass, who is now- Iâll read it. Iâll read it. Please put that down.
⌠Hey, this isnât too bad. It just says âhelp meâ, written in a shaky, unfamiliar hand, pressed so deeply into the paper that the page is ripped in places. This time itâs red! How adorable. You know, in the language of color theory, red represents warmth, energy and enthusiasm.
Letâs take a look at the rest while Iâm âin the zoneâ. This one says âcanât runâ⌠Thatâs true, Iâm on the clock right now. This is not the time for recreational activities like jogging. This one is just the word ânoâ, written nine times around a picture of a shadowy figure with a face like a⌠Well. With a face thatâs not like a face. Hey, hang on! I am holding up the picture to compare it to our visitor. He is standing still very nicely while I look back and forth between him and the paper. Youâve been very good today, so please see the front desk for a lollipop on your way out. I think this might be⌠Actually no, never mind. The drawing cannot be of him, itâs far too skinny. No person could possibly be this thin, as thin as the wall of an airplane becomes when it stands as the only barrier between you and the arms of a welcoming earth. She does not understand why you keep leaving. She will do anything to make you stay. The man in this picture is as thin as about ten minutes per week. I never did end up hearing from that guy.
The visitor has left. I suppose he went to collect his lollipop. The eighth and final letter sits here on my desk. It seems lighter than it did a minute ago - or maybe my arms have just become stronger after several minutes of opening envelopes. And they say radio isnât a physically demanding job! I would like to see some of you gym types try to lift these. They must each weigh as much as one ounce.
Well, no use delaying the inevitable. Thatâs what I always say!
Oh, itâs just from station management again. Theyâre saying I won the first round of the âsexy manâ competition. I guess âslender manâ was so intimidated by my literary accomplishments and newly sculpted musculature that he gave up. âSlender manâ, wherever you are, donât lose faith in yourself. Sure, we canât all be bad boy radio hosts with a secret heart of gold, but there is somebody out there who will love you for who you are. Maybe try to do the dishes more often though, okay?
Stay tuned next for a middle-aged man trying to figure out who Herobrine is. My best guess is some kind of pickle-themed vigilante.
Good night Night Vale. Good night.
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