Chill Season 2022/3, Deepcember 30

You freaks really love this crap huh? Your comments are all so fuckin braindead. Oh FF you're so fresh and counter cultural please keep being a dick and calling us names, you all scream like a thousand fucking fishsticks pissing ink in a circle.

To answer your questions:

  • Yes I really am that asshole
  • Yes I actually put work into this shit now
  • Fuck sponsorships - stuff your cash up your ass
  • Yes I have a life outside of ruining fashion forever

In response to my newest look: I hope you fucking hate it. I always hope you hate it. At no point do I ever put together the most dogfishshit getup Inkfish society has ever seen and think gee golly I hope all these braindead posers think I look cool! To the brave few willing to risk a public reaction of revulsion: I want to kiss you on the mouth. With tongue. (To all the kids in the audience - get fucked and ask mommy and daddy how little squids are made okay?). I don't go out of my way to find the worst possible pieces of clothing of all time to be loved, contrary to popular belief.

I think the neon yellow over-cropped crop parka (a factory reject one of my mates fished out a dumpster) plus the neon green smallfry-smugglers really assaulted the eyeballs appropriately. I hope you all eyed up Papa's Downstairs Tentacle you freaks. The customary sock-sandal combo was a must to polish off the ground floor. Some may have felt I was pushing boundaries with the ripped denim bucket hat that I fished out of my local lost and found box but I think it really shat on any semblance of taste in a brand-appropriate manner.

FF, I hear you shitlords comment, you dumpster dive for your pieces?!

Yes, I reply, I think the stains really add to the squalor of it all.

I've already seen some of you degenerates emulating the look. The Spatland Community Crotch Watching Club has been kept real busy, what with the ol' ultra-cling Lyrcrab keeping our imaginations from having to work too hard. I'm not too fucking bothering if you wanna perv on me - you think I'm not an exhibitionist with the way I dress? Maybe one day I'll come into the Square in my full bathing suit and then you sickos will finally shun me.

(Note to self: test the boundaries of public near-nudity in the near future.)


Chill Season 2022/3, Januabalone 4

A few of my misguided fans expressed concern in the comments of my last post that with the weather on the colder side it might be uncomfortable for me to show more skin in the Chill Season. Cod Forbid.

Do you honestly think the pufferfish shoulder ornaments on my latest outfit felt good to wear? I'm still covered in goddamn pricks and scratches. Lemme tell you, pufferfish quills are a ballache to pull out. The sacrifices I make on my path to fashion genocide are endless. Don't emulate me kids... or do because watching some of you squawk in the Square when you get a face full of spikes is the fucking nectar that feeds my black little Octoling soul. Watch as FF makes a socio-political statement on Inkling consumerism by manipulating their awful taste to force them into some fucked up game of masochist sea chicken.

Not that some of my fellowing Octolings aren't pathetic little conformists either. Honestly, some of you really are just the weakest little people pleasers, bopping along to whatever sickly sweet tunes our Idol Overlords have shat out for us. Listen to some good music for once and stop trying so hard - the Inklings don't notice any of our bullshit act anyway, they're too busy being two clams short of a chowder. No offense to my Inkling fanbase (well some offense is intended) but a lot of you guys are not the fastest tuna in the shoal. Remember the whole 'look at the fancy new hairstyles' bullshit y'all played in Inkopolis? FYI - I have an Inkling roommate, so I can't be cephla-racist, okay? Don't @ me on Squidstagram or Fritter because I don't fucking have either of those garbage platforms.

A portion of you weirdos really want to hear more about the sordid personal life of their local fav influencer. First, honey, go get checked out for Parasocial - I hear it's going around this time of year. Second, I'm not letting you pricks anywhere near my normal life. You all lose your collective brain cell when I walk past you in a Turf War match (thanks for that btw, my stats are looking sick with all the matches I'm acing) so I think my morning coffee order would be pretty shit if my barista forgot how to speak plain Squinglish.

A few of you have been asking what weapons I main in Turf War. Much to everyone's displeasure (and I hope you all do dislike my choices) I main Reeflux and Aerospray. The new Aerospray kit fucking rocks, btw. Whole new ways of being an asshole have opened up to me with that kit. Some of you who have been endowed with more than one limp brain cell also asked if I have more than one Comp Handle to keep my identity quiet. 'course I fucking do, dickhead. I don't play serious matches under FF. I can barely play in half the shit I wear anyway. I have private Handle for playing with mates. Don't go looking - you won't find it.

Just savour the fun fresh FF flavour.

Shout out to the SeaWeed community here in Splatsville. Y'all smoke some good shit. That 420 in my Handle ain't just for rep.


Chill Season 2022/3, Febrillary 13

A few of you idiots are under the impression that FF is some kind of genuine meaningful piece of performance art intended to 'stick it to the Squid' or whatever.

'FF didn't you say that all of this crazy BS was a big socio-political statement intended to critique consumerism or some shit?'

Why yes, dear reader, I did. I did say that. Congratulations on paying attention, I'm sure your Mommy and Daddy are so proud. But only my true fans know that you shouldn't trust a fucking word that comes out of my damn mouth. I'm not here to entertain you lumpsuckers. I'm here to be an asshole on purpose. Any semblance of coherent messaging should be tossed out in the trash so I can find it three weeks later and turn it into Splatsville's newest conversation piece.

I'm not here to be serious. I'm here to be as awful as possible and make you all regret paying attention to me. Apparently it isn't fucking working because you all keep stopping me in the street for autographs and I keep just stabbing the pen through the paper as aggressively as possible and yet you keep asking for my services as your resident cool kid calligrapher.

I've seen how much you shifty little hustlers have been selling my bullshit 'autographs' for. Good for you. I'm glad something that takes me negative percent effort is turning a profit for you, you pathetic fat catfishers. On the goddamn topic of money: I WON'T TAKE SPONSORSHIPS. I DON'T WANT TO MAKE MONEY OFF THIS SHIT. I WANT THIS SHIT TO BE NUCLEAR WASTE TO ALL THE BRANDS OUT THERE. Why do you think I keep making these outfits harder and harder to mass produce?

And to answer and pathetically common request: No I do not take requests and no I will not accept your crappy clothes. You aren't cool enough to contribute to my bullshit, because my bullshit is so uncool it has paradoxically dolphin-flipped into ultra-fresh territory. I don't need some little kid shit holding me down. There is no meaning to my bad choices. It's just me making bad choices. If anything, all of you pathetic hangers-on make me lose faith in Cephalosociety a little more every day. Batter me and call me calamari so you can insult me in death one final ironic time (for the dumbasses in the audience, calamari is made with squid and I'm not a fucking Squid).

Either way, the sooner you low-attention-span assholes get bored of me the better.


Chill Season 2022/3, Febrillary 17

Congratulations you idiots you've done it again.

With the utmost fucking disgust I was roped into attending the last two auto-fellationary events that this brain-dead society likes to call 'Splatfests'. Let's all dress up like FF for a weekend and pledge our undying meaningless support to teams sent to us through a mystical goddamn fax machine why don't we?

For all my SourHeads out there - congratulations on sucking so fucking bad. At least you weren't Team Sweet and sticking with the lobotomised crowd. I can give Team Spicy a minor pass for not being as conformist as Sweet. I hope we all enjoyed playing to the tune of consumerism once again. I sure enjoyed fishing through the garbage afterwards for all the 'costume' pieces you losers threw out. You gusy really just buy clothes for Splatfests and then throw them out, huh?

Even worse is that we are FORCED to give our stupid fucking t-shirts back after the festival.

Lemme tell you, the authorities actually track that shit! I thought it would be hilarious to keep my shirt from the Flavourfest to use it for another look later but apparently they take note of our goddamn IDs when we clock out a Splatfest shirts so they know exactly which Squidiots still have possession of their cheap-ass corporate sponsored sick rags. I did not appreciate being harassed by some burly Wolf Fish debt collector at 3am demanding I return a goddamn t-shirt. Learned my stupid lesson I guess.

(If anyone has some DeepSea Market links and can source me a Splatfest shirt please let me know.)

That doesn't even begin to cover the absolute trainwreck that was ol' Chocfest this weekend, does it? There's me, choosing Milk Chocolate for a friend (we all know FF would have gone White Chocolate for the """"Colour"""") and watching my team of absolute children get wiped match after match because they don't know how to ink the fucking ground. There's FF playing 'paint cocks on the enemy spawn with the inkbrush again' plus their damn entourage of Baby Squids crying for Mommy. Get a grip, geez.

Splatfests are fucking stupid. What's even the point? What now we have a public Coddamn declaration that 'Sweet is the Best Flavour' and 'White Chocolate is the Best Chocolate'. What is this fishistic nightmare world we live in.

(If any of you posers suggest I'm bitter because I keep picking losing teams, you can shove your tentacles up your ass.)