There’s a short circuit in my brain. I’m not sure exactly where it is, but it&am
There’s a short circuit in my brain. I’m not sure exactly where it is, but it’s definitely there. I imagine it’s in some deep dark recess, somewhere akin to the power relays in Nakatomi Plaza; somewhere that’s difficult to get to, without much space. The lighting is poor. But when I see a girl doing her best to look adorable, or even achieving it without the slightest of effort, there’s a spark in that deep, dark room. It lights up the area for a few moments, and I think there may even be a switch flipped. The building isn’t quite finished yet, you see, there are some kinks. Someone hired some cowboy builders, you know how it is. Instead of melting, slipping into smiles and soft, sweet thoughts. Instead of a protective urge kicking in, and me wanting to take care of this adorable creature, something entirely apposite happens. The smile is still there, but it’s driven by deviant thoughts. Of what exactly those pigtails are going to be used for. Of where those big, beautiful eyes are going to be staring at me from. Of the words I’d make you say. That recess is awfully hard to get to, you know. Getting it repaired is going to be a lot of effort. The guy is going to have to squeeze through the vents, probably fight off a few armed gunmen. Not to mention his poor feet and the glass. No, better to just leave it. It’s not hurting anyone, right? -- source link
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