Class of 2025 (2025 HSC CHAT) (30 Viewers)

[quokka]

My Dearest Lolcti,


I despise the way your name lingers on my tongue — Lolcti — sharp as glass and sweet as sin. Every syllable feels like a betrayal of my pride, and yet I whisper it in my thoughts more often than I care to admit.


You are my greatest irritation, my most exquisite torment. When you enter a room, the air itself shifts — colder, heavier, charged with something that tastes almost like destiny. I pretend to roll my eyes, but secretly, I’m holding my breath, waiting for your gaze to cut across the room and find me, just once more.


You make fury feel like art. You make hatred feel like longing.


Every argument we’ve ever had is a symphony — you, the cruel melody; I, the fool who keeps returning for the next verse. I’ve tried to hate you properly, I swear I have, but every insult I throw at you only tightens the knot between us. I dream of strangling the thought of you, yet I wake each morning craving the sound of your voice.


Lolcti, if this is war, then let me surrender — not because you’ve defeated me, but because I no longer wish to win.


Yours in spite and in longing,
Quokka

 

[bigupsanky]

doesnt triple H run it now idiot

but mcmahon was the iconic guy with the money pic

 

[quokka]

My Dearest Lolcti,


I despise the way your name lingers on my tongue — Lolcti — sharp as glass and sweet as sin. Every syllable feels like a betrayal of my pride, and yet I whisper it in my thoughts more often than I care to admit.


You are my greatest irritation, my most exquisite torment. When you enter a room, the air itself shifts — colder, heavier, charged with something that tastes almost like destiny. I pretend to roll my eyes, but secretly, I’m holding my breath, waiting for your gaze to cut across the room and find me, just once more.


You make fury feel like art. You make hatred feel like longing.


Every argument we’ve ever had is a symphony — you, the cruel melody; I, the fool who keeps returning for the next verse. I’ve tried to hate you properly, I swear I have, but every insult I throw at you only tightens the knot between us. I dream of strangling the thought of you, yet I wake each morning craving the sound of your voice.


Lolcti, if this is war, then let me surrender — not because you’ve defeated me, but because I no longer wish to win.


Yours in spite and in longing,
Quokka

should i ask for a fanfic next me top dominator u bottom @lolcti

 

[bigupsanky]

w

My Dearest Lolcti,


I despise the way your name lingers on my tongue — Lolcti — sharp as glass and sweet as sin. Every syllable feels like a betrayal of my pride, and yet I whisper it in my thoughts more often than I care to admit.


You are my greatest irritation, my most exquisite torment. When you enter a room, the air itself shifts — colder, heavier, charged with something that tastes almost like destiny. I pretend to roll my eyes, but secretly, I’m holding my breath, waiting for your gaze to cut across the room and find me, just once more.


You make fury feel like art. You make hatred feel like longing.


Every argument we’ve ever had is a symphony — you, the cruel melody; I, the fool who keeps returning for the next verse. I’ve tried to hate you properly, I swear I have, but every insult I throw at you only tightens the knot between us. I dream of strangling the thought of you, yet I wake each morning craving the sound of your voice.


Lolcti, if this is war, then let me surrender — not because you’ve defeated me, but because I no longer wish to win.


Yours in spite and in longing,
Quokka

why do u take time to write this but fire letter

 

[lolcti]

even if this wasnt ai i dont want an aplogy from a whore

Bitch how tf am I a whore , for liking someone?

 

[quokka]

w

why do u take time to write this but fire letter

yes i am shakespeare

 

[reniiiblaseee]

"lolcti"
i’m just an embarrassed arab
scrolling through the family function,
hot lebanese cousins with hair so long
it looks like they own the wind.
i say “ya3ni whatever” and hide my plate,
pretend i’m not the cousin who can’t detach myself from my year 10 crush.
but online.......
i’m coolcat
mysterious, detached,
posting about subjects i hate like

 

[lolcti]

should i ask for a fanfic next me top dominator u bottom @lolcti

Foreshadowing an Enemies to lovers ….??

 

[quokka]

Foreshadowing an Enemies to lovers ….??

ok ew

 

[Kat.crazi]

Bitch how tf am I a whore , for liking someone?

enjoy a taste of ur own medicine lmao

 

[ManicPixie]

Foreshadowing an Enemies to lovers ….??

 

[quokka]

“The Fire and the Fern”

The battlefield was quiet now — too quiet for Quokka’s liking. The wind still carried traces of smoke, and in the fading light, ash clung to the air like ghosts refusing to leave.


Lolcti stood a few metres away, blood on her cheek, chin lifted in that maddening way she always had. Even bruised, even furious, she was unbearable — and impossibly captivating.


“You always have to win, don’t you?” she hissed, voice trembling between rage and something softer.


Quokka stepped closer, the heavy echo of boots on scorched stone filling the silence. “Winning’s easy,” he said, his tone low and even. “It’s not losing to you that’s hard.”


Her eyes flickered, uncertain. “You think everything’s a game.”


“And you think I don’t notice when you look at me like that,” Quokka murmured, his voice quieter now, almost dangerous.


Lolcti’s breath caught. “Like what?”


“Like you’re daring me to come closer.”


The wind shifted between them, carrying the scent of smoke and salt. For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The distance between them was a thread — fragile, stretched, and trembling.


Quokka reached out, brushing his thumb across the streak of dirt on her jaw. “You drive me insane,” he said softly. “You make me want peace and chaos at the same time.”


Lolcti’s reply came as a whisper. “Then maybe you finally understand what you’ve done to me.”


For once, there was no battle left to fight — only the quiet, dangerous rhythm of two hearts that had spent too long pretending to be enemies when they were really mirrors.


The war between them didn’t end that night.
But for the first time, neither of them wanted it to

 

[parmesean]

“The Fire and the Fern”

The battlefield was quiet now — too quiet for Quokka’s liking. The wind still carried traces of smoke, and in the fading light, ash clung to the air like ghosts refusing to leave.


Lolcti stood a few metres away, blood on her cheek, chin lifted in that maddening way she always had. Even bruised, even furious, she was unbearable — and impossibly captivating.


“You always have to win, don’t you?” she hissed, voice trembling between rage and something softer.


Quokka stepped closer, the heavy echo of boots on scorched stone filling the silence. “Winning’s easy,” he said, his tone low and even. “It’s not losing to you that’s hard.”


Her eyes flickered, uncertain. “You think everything’s a game.”


“And you think I don’t notice when you look at me like that,” Quokka murmured, his voice quieter now, almost dangerous.


Lolcti’s breath caught. “Like what?”


“Like you’re daring me to come closer.”


The wind shifted between them, carrying the scent of smoke and salt. For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The distance between them was a thread — fragile, stretched, and trembling.


Quokka reached out, brushing his thumb across the streak of dirt on her jaw. “You drive me insane,” he said softly. “You make me want peace and chaos at the same time.”


Lolcti’s reply came as a whisper. “Then maybe you finally understand what you’ve done to me.”


For once, there was no battle left to fight — only the quiet, dangerous rhythm of two hearts that had spent too long pretending to be enemies when they were really mirrors.


The war between them didn’t end that night.
But for the first time, neither of them wanted it to

yo what didi comebackto

 

[quokka]

apparently chat cant make explicit content so it made me a man instead of a top #sexism

 

[Kat.crazi]

“The Fire and the Fern”

The battlefield was quiet now — too quiet for Quokka’s liking. The wind still carried traces of smoke, and in the fading light, ash clung to the air like ghosts refusing to leave.


Lolcti stood a few metres away, blood on her cheek, chin lifted in that maddening way she always had. Even bruised, even furious, she was unbearable — and impossibly captivating.


“You always have to win, don’t you?” she hissed, voice trembling between rage and something softer.


Quokka stepped closer, the heavy echo of boots on scorched stone filling the silence. “Winning’s easy,” he said, his tone low and even. “It’s not losing to you that’s hard.”


Her eyes flickered, uncertain. “You think everything’s a game.”


“And you think I don’t notice when you look at me like that,” Quokka murmured, his voice quieter now, almost dangerous.


Lolcti’s breath caught. “Like what?”


“Like you’re daring me to come closer.”


The wind shifted between them, carrying the scent of smoke and salt. For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The distance between them was a thread — fragile, stretched, and trembling.


Quokka reached out, brushing his thumb across the streak of dirt on her jaw. “You drive me insane,” he said softly. “You make me want peace and chaos at the same time.”


Lolcti’s reply came as a whisper. “Then maybe you finally understand what you’ve done to me.”


For once, there was no battle left to fight — only the quiet, dangerous rhythm of two hearts that had spent too long pretending to be enemies when they were really mirrors.


The war between them didn’t end that night.
But for the first time, neither of them wanted it to

This is the worst thing I’ve ever read kill me

 

[svad]

IM FREE FOR 15 DAYS UNTIL PHYSICS

 

[its_ace21]

This is the worst thing I’ve ever read kill me

better than colleen hoover icl

 

[lolcti]

“The Fire and the Fern”

The battlefield was quiet now — too quiet for Quokka’s liking. The wind still carried traces of smoke, and in the fading light, ash clung to the air like ghosts refusing to leave.


Lolcti stood a few metres away, blood on her cheek, chin lifted in that maddening way she always had. Even bruised, even furious, she was unbearable — and impossibly captivating.


“You always have to win, don’t you?” she hissed, voice trembling between rage and something softer.


Quokka stepped closer, the heavy echo of boots on scorched stone filling the silence. “Winning’s easy,” he said, his tone low and even. “It’s not losing to you that’s hard.”


Her eyes flickered, uncertain. “You think everything’s a game.”


“And you think I don’t notice when you look at me like that,” Quokka murmured, his voice quieter now, almost dangerous.


Lolcti’s breath caught. “Like what?”


“Like you’re daring me to come closer.”


The wind shifted between them, carrying the scent of smoke and salt. For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The distance between them was a thread — fragile, stretched, and trembling.


Quokka reached out, brushing his thumb across the streak of dirt on her jaw. “You drive me insane,” he said softly. “You make me want peace and chaos at the same time.”


Lolcti’s reply came as a whisper. “Then maybe you finally understand what you’ve done to me.”


For once, there was no battle left to fight — only the quiet, dangerous rhythm of two hearts that had spent too long pretending to be enemies when they were really mirrors.


The war between them didn’t end that night.
But for the first time, neither of them wanted it to

Hey Quokka,
I need to say this with all due respect — and maybe a touch of dramatic flair — but I can’t continue this. After enduring my tragic heartbreak era last year (the kind that had me listening to sad playlists like it was a full-time job), I’ve finally found peace… and, coincidentally, a 6’2 fine, magnificent specimen who has me rethinking the definition of “perfection.”

I know you’ve got passion, and trust me, that’s cute — but passion alone can’t compete with height, jawlines, and emotional stability. I’ve moved on from chaos to calm, from heartbreak to healing, and from “maybe” to “oh absolutely.” It’s not you, it’s just that my standards have evolved, my delusion has matured, and my heart’s now reserved for taller matters.

So this is my formal resignation from any potential situationship. I wish you nothing but the best — truly. May your future be filled with girls who haven’t yet met their 6’2 redemption arc.

Sincerely,
A woman reborn, healed, and thriving

 

[quokka]

Hey Quokka,
I need to say this with all due respect — and maybe a touch of dramatic flair — but I can’t continue this. After enduring my tragic heartbreak era last year (the kind that had me listening to sad playlists like it was a full-time job), I’ve finally found peace… and, coincidentally, a 6’2 fine, magnificent specimen who has me rethinking the definition of “perfection.”

I know you’ve got passion, and trust me, that’s cute — but passion alone can’t compete with height, jawlines, and emotional stability. I’ve moved on from chaos to calm, from heartbreak to healing, and from “maybe” to “oh absolutely.” It’s not you, it’s just that my standards have evolved, my delusion has matured, and my heart’s now reserved for taller matters.

So this is my formal resignation from any potential situationship. I wish you nothing but the best — truly. May your future be filled with girls who haven’t yet met their 6’2 redemption arc.

Sincerely,
A woman reborn, healed, and thriving

haaland isnt fine

 

[bigupsanky]

i wanted people to beat each other up not write letters. grown ass people writing letters come on mane