#dweeb dunking

[affluent-havoc]

He's going into the slammer!

[todayisafridaynight]

Omg someone just compared Aoki to incel Paul Dano Riddler the twitter users meme on 😭😭😭😭😭

can i say theyre wrong. not confidently.

[nanomooselet]

The thing about Knives is that he is fundamentally ridiculous but he believes he has natural gravitas because everyone around him is trembling with dread and trying not to cry.

Man, that's because you kill people. They're in fear for their lives. You are not a badass.

The guy over there with his silly-ass hair and his brightly-coloured coat and his sweet nature and his dedication to the bit? That guy there stuffing his face with donuts and flailing around like an inflatable tube man? The guy whose friends are constantly giving him shit?

He's the badass.

And I think you know. I think you find it infuriating.

coming or going Knives just cannot win. if he uses a gun everyone is 'ohhohoho where are your knives mr millions point and laugh my friends point and laugh' but when he uses knives the masses shriek with renewed laughter because the boy really do be having millions of knives so on the nose so silly, it's no wonder he wants to end mankind

[occamstfs]

Actually, They're Called Tetrominoes

Been holding out on some kinda Video Game trigger, here's a bit of an odd Russian cultural/racial TF, enjoy! -Occam

Michael could stand to be a more pleasant person. Day to day he is a pretty run of the mill head-down kinda guy, amicable but never really goes out his way to chat or make friends. Instead he finds his free time often used to prowl the internet looking for people to torment online in whatever way he finds funny at the moment. Born too late to be a goon on SomethingAwful he typically pages through Reddit threads and communities looking for someone sensitive or cartoonishly argumentative.

This is precisely where he finds himself tonight, being a pedant on some video game thread that he doesn’t truly care about. Some presumably Russian user, u/ZandrIvnov, seems to be quite proud of Tetris which Michael finds incredibly amusing. As an American he too takes pride in many of the cultural exports and ideas that his nation has sent into the world, including many of the deeply entrenched ideas about the Russian and Soviet people taught in world history. It takes especially little for him to decide to start taunting and baiting this man sitting at his keyboard a world away.

Michael launches petty taunts at the Russian, poking fun at his nationality and Eastern Europe at large, stopping short at making fun of the man’s less than perfect English, for now at least. Michael switches between accounts to upvote his responses and even add additional dunks on the Tetris-fan as needed. Try as he might though to get the conversation away from the ancient game and get some more personal and profane digs in there he finds it difficult to find any truly satisfying or clever insults.

Getting tired of hearing this man assert Russian superiority he prepares to pull the ripcord and move on before he sees the Russian misstep talking about the game he’s so invested in, as probably the only fun fact he has on deck comes to mind. After the Russian so eloquently compares Michael’s head to a Tetris piece Michael immediately replies, “okay lol big fan huh they’re actually called tetrominoes” and then moves on to find some other doofus to bully on the internet.

On the other side of the screen Sasha seethes at the man, so juvenile in his mockery “Проклятые американцы. (Fucking Americans.)” He takes to his own keyboard messaging Michael directly as his arrogant messages dry up in the thread proper, Sasha was going to have him put his money where his mouth was. He offers a challenge, “u americans are so proud da? how about we see whos country rly is the best”

Michael felt his pulse rise in excitement at how much he has truly bothered this man. Smug smile on his face as he types his response, “what did u have in mind, Zander?”

“Саша(Sasha) is my name. since u are so smart about tetris, why not see who is actual master of game da?” Sasha offers, knowing already that the troll is sure to accept out of pride alone. Michael wasn’t all that much of a gamer but surely he could show this dweeb what’s what yeah? He starts looking up tips to win Tetris as he replies “sure whatever dude, what are u thinkin”

Sasha smirks as he has Michael right where he wants him, “loser agrees with winner about national superiority? should not be problem if you americans are so good at every thing” Michael was already eager to give it a go and Sasha’s taunt only makes him all the more raring to go. Before he can even pause his meager attempt to study strategy, Sasha sends over a link to the game and Michael clicks over to play, leaving the cheat sheet open on a second monitor. 

Michael types his name into the game and finds himself looking at a familiar screen. He’s never played the game competitively but it’s a pretty simple game right? He just needs to keep his cool once the pieces start flying in. He gets the cheeky idea to check the cheat sheet in between pieces. That’s that good-old red white and blue ingenuity, Michael thinks. Unaware that these are of course also of the Russian flag. There’s a ping from the board as Sasha uses the in game chat to ask “u understand the rules da”

Michael sends back a thumbs up and Sasha sets the game going. It is predictably uneventful at the beginning, neither man making any particularly interesting plays. Michael continues to skim how to best cheat the game while Sasha waits for the perfect moment to fuck him over. Michael finds himself enjoying the game more than he thought he would as he hears the familiar tune, it is awfully catchy isn’t it? He’s gotta hand it to the soviets for that. His gameplay slows down as he tries to speedread the page on his other monitor. Instead of forcing pieces quickly he instead lets them drift slowly while his board is relatively clear. Sasha sees this and decides to go in for the kill.

Suddenly as Michael’s eyes wander away from the game for just a second too long there is an unfamiliar sound. He darts his attention back only to see the floor of his Tetris board rocket up in response to Sasha doing an impossibly well timed combo of lines. Michael’s heartbeat increases at a shocking rate in response as losing becomes a very real possibility. Why is he so upset? His face grows red as he realizes just how outclassed he is. Obviously this is no big deal right? Just a game. But Michael cannot help but feel physically uncomfortable as the tides start to turn so swiftly. 

There is suddenly a crick in his neck that he stretches to avail but only exacerbates as a soreness begins to spread further across his body. Man is he tensing up too much? It’s just, it’s just a game right? Trying to calm down he is hit with the thought as if it were a shot of adrenaline that he absolutely cannot lose this game. His eyebrows furrow as they begin to square and thicken, casting dark shadows over his rage-filled eyes. His limbs take turns cramping as he clenches his neck and jaw to distract from the pane, not noticing as the structure of his face begins to change. 

His chest grows to join the chorus of muscle spasms as Michael struggles to keep up with even Sasha’s slower gameplay. Across the seas Sasha takes his time, knowing victory is in the bag, and savoring what he knows must be happening to his little troll Michael right now. He smirks as he imagines the discomfort in Michael’s changing body as he feels warmth grow in his own chest, and crotch, as he decides just how much he wants to play with his food. 

Back in the states Michael finds the heat, the sweat, the tightness of his clothes increasingly unbearable. As he continues to mash buttons on his remote he is too intent on the game to notice as hair begins to darken around his forearms and begin to snake its way towards his hands. He rubs them each down to placate the tickle on his growing arms. This is absolutely nothing to the creeping itch that is starting to encompass the entirety of his rapidly expansive legs. He shifts his heavier thighs trying to soothe the discomfort, making a loud sound as they pull away from the sweat sticking them to the chair but not allaying the soreness or itch in the slightest.

He grunts and notices not how his voice has grown both deeper and gruffer in his throat. Michael struggles to keep the remote from slipping out of his hands as sweat trickles down from his hairy arms and into his palms. Before it becomes a problem however Michael takes advantage of the lull in Sasha’s gameplay and tries to quickly remove his far too strained shirt. It should be a simple task after all, just put the remote down for a second, slide it off, and then back to the game. He does a brief check in to ensure he has even that and after believing he does Michael starts to try and remove the shirt strained and sticking to his skin.

He has precious little time as the pieces continue to fall at their set pace in game. He gets one hand under the hem of his shirt and tries to wrench it while keeping his other hand on the controller, this lets in a breeze of cold air sending quivers of pleasure across his pulsating muscle, as well as igniting a burning ache in his chest and torso. His upper body grows even further, finally overfilling his shirt as the sound of tears ring out in his bedroom alongside the same repetitive folk song he knows well. The idea that this shirt was loose fitting when he threw it on this morning or that he just identified the Tetris theme as a folk song rather than an 8-bit annoyance don’t have a chance to come to mind as he struggles to remain focused on not losing the game.

He pulls the shirt up to his chest before it gets uncomfortably stuck “Ach, bog uh- god damnit.” He scratches at his chest as the soreness and growing muscle makes way for a fiery prickling as the few chest hairs he has been a tad ashamed of begin to thicken and darken on his chest. Swirling out from his nipples and inching higher on his chest with each breath, he continues to struggle to remove himself mindlessly. Finding his shirt caught on his expansive pecs he rubs his hand underneath it across his sweaty chest, and finding it pleasurably drag through more hair on his pecs than he would’ve sworn he had in his pubes, he resolves to remove the shirt however he can. 

As soon as he finishes a line Michael tosses the remote down and goes to raise his shirt above his head, his thicker arms struggling as they adjust to their new range of motion. He wrests the tight shirt above his head, his chest bursting large once more, freed from the garment as the breeze tickles the sweat covered chest hair and forces his enlarged nipples to harden. Having overcome his suddenly massive pecs the neckline is now caught on his chin, his arms raised high above his head expose his pits to the cold open air. He feels the air con blow against his recently shaved pits as the hair begins to grow back. It starts to catch as the hair begins to grow thicker and longer than it had ever done before, curling together as new hairs begin to push out and form a bush thick enough to never see the skin beneath again.

This also brings his attention to new development in his body, with his face shoved into his shirt it would be impossible not to notice the unbecoming amount of sweat soaking it. Arms raised though he finally notices that he has an altogether far more powerful scent, on par with a macro-obsessed body builder or hygiene-phobic wild man. Michael feels a beard start to push out into the shirt still hugging his face. Shaving once a month was more than enough to keep him clean shaven but now he knew deep in his mind that he would never have a day again where his face would be smooth. It’s that Ru- That American blood in him, right?

He begins to feel himself lost in the scent as his mind begins to grow distracted, attention fading from the game despite the looping tune filling his mind. He turns his head to smell his pits through his shirt which is when he hears the dreaded sound of Sasha making a combo once more, “Gah! Nyo, I can’t lose” he shouts, not noticing as his rough tone begins to develop a slight accent. Ending the long-standing struggle against his shirt he simply rips it off and jumps for the controller, ashamed at how foolish and lustful he has suddenly found himself in the middle of this all-important competition.

He needs to make his people proud! He cannot let Amerika down, ya? His focus and vision return to the game as he stumbles through one more line before all the pieces fall from view and the game declares Sasha the winner. Mikael reflexively pounds his table shouting, “Ny- no! I, this!” struggling to find any words to make his loss okay. Unable to notice just how bizarre this game has affected him, though sure that something grave has occurred. He scrambles to the chat box where he sees Sasha has yet again beaten him to the punch, “gg Брат(brother) yes?”

Mikael’s eyes don’t even notice the language switch in the message as he quickly races to demand a rematch. Punching keys slower than the career-cyberbully is accustomed to, almost as if he would be more comfortable with a different keyboard format, slowly he punches his response “one more best dva out of tri ya?” Sasha laughs out loud seeing Mikael suddenly typing out anglicized Russian. He smirks and squeezes his crotch in excitement at just how far this American brat has fallen into his hands. Sasha responds in full Russian knowing that Mikael may as well already be his countryman. “конечно, почему бы и нет, брат (sure why not, brother)”

Mikael smiles as he prepares for yet another go against Sasha, he’s eager to learn from his, uh? Suddenly he can’t quite remember how he knows Sasha exactly as his memories of his persistent pathetic history of being a troll begins to fade from his mind. As the Tetris theme starts once more with the game Mikael finds himself singing along as the words to the folk song it is based on, blushing at the vulgarity therein.

The race is on once more and though he was sure this was a competition against his friend, no, his брат(brother), Sasha, He can’t help but feel a giddiness as the game progresses. He feels a warmth in his chest just from playing a game of his childhood, of his country? No he’s a born and bred statesman da? He’s from, uh Moscow is a city in one of the states too da? Though he finds himself distracted his body continues to expertly control the game subconsciously.

He blushes as he struggles to remember where he grew up, it was a smaller town for sure. Somewhere very far North for sure, after all why else would he grow so hairy! He launches into a hearty laugh as body hair continues to push out from every pore in his body, sure to be peaking out from every shirt collar on both sides. He scratches at his pubes as it becomes clear that even besides his massive package there will evermore be a bulge in his pants from this unkept jungle as well. 

His eyes continue to follow the pieces up and down as they slowly begin to lighten and bleach themselves an icy blue. The itchiness that has made itself at home through the whole of its body is replaced with a burning pleasure as he thinks oh his home. Full days where there is only sun, long treks into the city to visit St. Basil’s, helping his mother fry pirozhki. The hair atop his head bleaches itself a sandy blonde while still thickening and pulling itself short as a lightbulb goes off in his head his voice rumbles in his chest as he reflexively speaks in what must be his mother tongue, “Конечно! я спрошу у Саши (Of course! I’ll just ask Sasha).” 

He goes to pause the game as he now knows he can do and types to Sasha in chat, “hey брат, wher am i от again?” Sasha smirks at just how easy this was stopping short from fully masturbating as he thinks of his new massive countryman living a world away as he replies, “недалеко от Москвы, Миша (just outside of Moscow, Misha).”

Misha’s eyes glaze over as he reads this, the room around him changes, American flags familiar patterns shift into the Russian tricolor. Any writing within the room shifts from English to the cyrillic alphabet and Misha sits there with a smile as he recalls his home. Long winters working alongside his best friend Sasha. His neck thickens and his waist expands as he thinks of long nights drinking alongside his friends to abate the cold. The game of Tetris continues on and he again feels a warmth in his chest at the chance to play with his dearest Друг(friend) Sasha.

For the life of him he can’t quite remember why he has moved to Америки though he is sure that Sasha will know. Sasha always knows the right thing to do. One thing is for sure though, he is going to do his Motherland proud.

[fisheito]

i lied. i'm still here

WHAT GIVE SYOU THE RIGHT

first of all, straight up 14 minutes spent staring athis stupid eyes. what are eyes? squishy orbs with holes in them? dunked in saltwater? connected to a bunch of vermicelli? ludicrous. they don't even know how to stand up straight. duymass orbs standing upside down all day relying on the brain to make sense of its wonky projections. i'm staring at salty upsidedown spheres for too many minutes. ims o anrgy

THE EARRING IS UNMOVED. UNCHANGING. STARING AT ME WITH ITS BEADY SALTORBS. mocking me. this is its everyday. this is normal. you twine that obsidian with the mundanity of the 9-5 grind and i just fume at you. STOP MOCKING ME

WHEN THE HFIOK WAS HE ALLOWED TO EXPOSE SKIN? WHO PULLED DOWN HIS SHIRTT? evil puppyfan whispering in my virtual ear: are those scratches on his back?!?! me: NO THEY AREN'T, THEY ARE JUST DECORATIVE BRUSH STROKES LIKE THE ONES USED FOR BLUSHES

IF THOSE WERE SCRATCHES THEY WOULD BE A HELLUCA LOT DEEPER AND ANGRIER BECAUSE THIS SNAKEY BITCGHJ AINT GETTING OFF WITH JUST A WARNING

wait hold up a minut

who pulled this thing down. doesn't he have a rather tight collar around his neck? there's no way someone could so easily just drag his entire torso's worth of clothing down past his shoulders-- *checks my notes*

DID THEY ONLY GIVE HIM HIS SECOND LAYER ? WHERE'S HIS SHIRT? i don't see any of that telltale white-

ok, well, there it is,? so, he's wearing it after all, but HOW DID THEY PULL DOWN THE UNDERSHIRT SO EASILY IS IT BAGGIER THAN EXPECTED? bruh i don't THINK so the waay that silk vacuum-seals to yakumo's skinnyarss chest in his regular sprite DID THEY TEAR IT APART?!?!?! just ripped at the neck. he can sew. he can fix it later on his own time. we got shoulders to expose here

WAIT. WHY IS HE WET? WHO THREW A BUCKET OF WATER ON HIM? other evil fan whispering in my alternate earhole: oh, they're ALL wet in their bday pics. don't worry, fish. it's like misting the vegetables in the grocery store-- me: I AM NOT MOLLIFIED BY THIS NEWS. WHY IS HEWET!!!!

way too godadam wet..... downright sopping😡

actually, that's a mighty fine bow. i wonder who tied that. it's a picturesque bow. i can never get my bows to look so perfect irl. very even. no lumpy sides. honestly, i wouldn't put it past eiden or olivine with their crafty hands to be able to pull that off-- EXCUSE ME WHAT THE TFOKF

WHO UNDID HIS PANTS W H A T

HE ALREADY HAS BARE SHOULDERS THAT'S AS SLUTTY AS IT GETS FOR THIS EXCESSIVELYBUBBLEWRAPPED SPAGHETT NOW YOU'RE PULLING HIS PANTS DOWN? HIS HIPS ARE GONNA GET COLD

stupid fkin hipbone on the bonyffikin snaek i'm gonna rip[ his greeater trochanter clean off his pelvis

WHATEVER. i'm fine. i'm totally fine. .......... bony snass out.....

you slap that thing and it's gonna shatter......couldn't even afford basic padding......economy-fare-level-buttmeat gotdamt taunting me with its fragile slappaibility

WHEN will this hoe learn. he beteter put those ankles away befroe he LOSES them i am THIsc lose to BITING THEM OFF his SNAPPABLE fibula PUT SOME SOCKS ON YOU WHORE

stupid anime legs. makes no sense. too frghign long couldn't even be contained by the border of the image. got cut off by the edge because his frivolous stilts had to stretch beyond reasonable restraints. surrender your left kneecap to customs. punishment for your femur hubris.

HOW FAR DOWN HAVE THOSE PANTS BEEN PULLED IVE NEVER WANTED TO SUCK A------

you're barely even tied up you dweeb there's nothing tethering you here if you stood up i bet the whole thing would unravel and you'd be completely unencumbered by that lightweight ribbon. i bet if we turned you around we would only see the ribbon loosely draping across your chest like a celebratory sash . congratulations on your self-contained imprisonment you wibbly reptilian beansprout

GOD HE DOES NOT STOP WIBBLING EVEN HIS ACCURSED LIPS ARE 〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜

UGH HE IS ALL NECK I'M GOING TO ROAST HIS SPINAL COLUMN AND TURN HIM INTO GRAVY

I HATE IT HERE

[oh-stars]

Ice Bath

wc: 509 | cw: N/A | gen rating | for @steddiemicrofic | Prompt: "edge"

---

Steve feels ancient. He may be active and still the strongest of their team, but he can feel his body fighting against him more and more every day. It’s like it wants to crumble under the weight, his knees cracking and the discs in his spine wobbling. 

That doesn’t mean he isn’t fighting to keep what little remains intact. 

He spends hours every day training his body to be at its prime, to show off a finesse of strength and agility that most people have lost with comfort. Runs, weights, extreme obstacles; you name it and Steve has it in his workout routine. 

Steve shivers as he steps into the ice bath, trying to soothe his inflamed muscles and numb the pain… everywhere. Another grueling part of his routine. 

“I don’t know why you do this to yourself,” Eddie says from his spot on the closed toilet seat. “You’re miserable every time—“

“It helps,” Steve says, “even if it sucks in the moment.”

Robin hums a note from the ‘um, actually’ scale and kicks her feet so her heels bang against the cabinets beneath her seat on the counter. “Is it really worth it?” 

Another necessary evil to his routine: the peanut gallery. 

Steve squeezes his eyes shut. “Yes,” his teeth clatter with the syllable. He tries to even his breathing, taking in intentional breaths to distract from the biting chill. 

“Really?” Eddie asks, incredulously. Without looking, Steve knows his eyebrow is raised and his arms are crossed as a teasing smile halfway between fond and something Steve can never pinpoint dances on his face. 

“Is this about your youth again?” Robin asks, using a blend of her 'Steve' voice and a British accent — the voice she and Eddie use to tease him about his vanity or the silly ideals his parents shoved down his throat. 

Eddie gasps, adopting the same voice, “Oh can’t you see our dearest Steven is wilting before our eyes, Robilina?” 

Robin also gasps and Steve just knows they’re swooning into one another. “Oh Edwarnold,” she yelps, “whatever will we do?” 

Steve sighs and runs a hand over his face, dropping ice-cold water all over himself. He’s submerged to his chest, but at this rate, he wants to dunk himself and both of his loving dweebs under the layer of ice in his small bath. “Sue me for trying to keep my body in peak fitness,” he says, glaring at their giggling faces, “some of us actually have to fight.” 

Eddie gasps for real this time, leaning forward as his eyes narrow. “This isn’t about you getting old,” he crows, “this is about Wheeler beating you in the relay!” 

He throws up his hands, water splashing and revealing more of his pebbled skin. “I’ve lost my edge! It wasn’t even a close race!”

Robin laughs so hard she’s crying as Eddie leans forward to kiss Steve’s hair, a condensing gesture he won’t ever turn down. 

Steve continues, “I’ll take losing to Nancy, fine, but Mike? How the hell did I lose to Mike Wheeler?”

—

Thanks @lady-lostmind for betaing 💜

[ruinationz]

pomni's asking caine if he would love her if she was a worm. lol. i was gonna write "is that a thing humans ask their lovers" but my handwriting is (foghorn sfx)

pomni is such a dork hehe. lol

also she's fine!! she is just. very in love. flustered

Trashy unshared showtime doodles including a shitty comic that was probably funnier in my head

[skojukebox]

Thinking more about RoR surge having inter dimensional surge interactions for real because I’m a big stupid indulgent nerd

Pines and Needles: The hoodie and mask trick would also work on her just as well as everyone in town, and as long as she had it on she would probably refer to her as some sort of rogue luchadore. When she took it off she’d absolutely pretend she knew it was her the whole time though. Honestly would probably get along alright with her, their dispositions are pretty similar. Would probably make fun of her (very lightly) about once being a science dweeb, but sympathize with her confrontation of loss of self. She would compliment her on her taste in women and also want to slam dunk every member of Pharmakon except Oleander straight into a toilet so they would most likely bond over that too.

Jade Surge: I think she’d have a hard time getting along with Jade Surge, mostly because of the concept that she had settled down to some degree. Even if RoR Surge is nicer than she used to be she is absolutely still caught in the punk rock delusion of “I am never gonna get old and I will never stop rocking motherfucker.” The idea that she’s got so much more of a cozy life and learned, at least to some degree, how to stop running from everything. She might be able to at least learn a few good lessons out of that interaction though.

Lead to Light: Again, compliments abound on her taste in women though I think she would (hypocritically since all of her confidence with that kind of stuff is surface level) tell her to get it over with and just smooch the sheep. Would probably be abjectly horrified at this universe’s version of the Metal Virus and the idea that her actions or behavior could ever be subjected to it in some way. She’d view being swept up in its whims as no different than being controlled by Starline or anyone else. Would also probably strongly encourage her to get this version of Tangle and Whisper to get their goddamn act together, but would somehow end up making things worse

[shinelikethunder]

as some kind of belated cultural experience I'm trying to watch The West Wing for the first time, and man, i'm sorry, i can see where the appeal lies, i'm sure there's all kinds of commentary to be had on how weirdly it's aged, etc... but i can't hear ANY of that over my primal urge to dunk Aaron Sorkin's smug face in a middle-school locker-room toilet and go "debate THIS, dweeb" as i give him a swirlie

[red-elric]

thinking about final form vriskas perspective on johnvris

-flirt w a boy for a whole day while u guide him through sburb

-originally think hes kind of a dweeb but hes fun and genuine and easy to talk to and he seems to actually like you

-end up telling him things youve never told anyone else, really bare your soul to this guy and he takes you at face value and accepts you for who you are without judgement

-think youre about to die (unrelated) and a three years older version of him punches you in the face and says its to save your life for the sake of the timeline

-spend three years on a meteor with no contact with him bc hes not even in your frame of reality

-go through some dream bubbles during this time; someone probably tells you the other dead version of you and he had a falling out and he now thinks youre kind of a bad person

-get a sweet diamonds girlfriend on the way btw

-reunite w him finally after three years, playing it cool bc if he doesnt want you you dont want him either

-hes flirting with your diamonds girlfriend the whole time and also not paying attention to you and your diamonds girlfriend is flirting back

-whatever

-time to go dunk on the dead version of you that fucked things up with him!!!

-you hate her for unrelated reasons tho dont worry. its got nothing to do with unresolved feelings for your three year old crush

-none at all

-absolutely not

[pearlypairings]

updated fic: "there is a light that never goes out"

photocheer || ch7/? || total wc: 24k || slow burn, pining, fluff

chap summary: Chrissy wants to help with the photo development, and Jonathan wants to spend as much time as he can with her before their deal is over. His feelings only grow stronger the more they talk and finds out about who she really is behind her status.

read here on ao3 :)

sneak preview below the break:

“Will was probably glad to answer the phone and get away from Mr. Craig’s diorama. He loves drawing, but can’t stand miniatures apparently.”

“God I hated that project.” Chrissy huffed. “I’d rather write out my thoughts.”

“You had Craig?”

“Ouch, I’ll pretend that didn’t sting,” she whined, nursing a fake wound over her heart with a pout.

He shot her a questioning look, feeling more self-conscious than before.

Her gloved hands dunked into the chemical wash to grab the next photo, lifting it in the air to gently wiggle the extra off. She smiled faintly at the photo in front of her. “We were in the same class freshman year. I was all the way in the back, though, easy to miss.”

Jonathan froze in the middle of reaching for the next photograph. “No, that can’t be right.”

Oh that's right, Jonathan!! You forgot about the love of your life being in your class, because you hated your teacher too much, you pretentious dweeb :P

thank you for being patient while I had many difficult things going on in my life. this chapter was slowly pieced together with the help of @1lostsoul0fishbowl as I navigated some personal challenges<3

hope you all enjoy this sweet, vulnerable chapter for both chrissy and jonathan<3

[marvinthemillennialmouse]

An older reblog of mine is making the rounds again. Not entirely sure why but hey, get that message out there.

It's very helpful in letting me identify people I need to block!

Are you an ancap dipshit who thinks taxes are theft and wants to try and shill your crypto pump-and-dump scheme so you don't have to be the biggest fool and lose all your money? Say hello to my block button!

Are you a snarky edgelord who claims he doesn't care about anything and anyone who cares at all is pure cringe? Congratulations! The real cringe was inside you all along! Your reward for self-actualization is a visit from my block button!

Are you a far right dweeb who thinks that your carefully constructed (read: sloppy typed) dunk has struck me in so tender a spot that I must immediately rethink my life? You couldn't be further from the truth! Unlike you, I'm actually secure in my identity and my beliefs! I don't need an orange, criminal, rapist talking head telling me what I should think despite it changing to whatever is most advantageous for him in that moment! Please, feel free to expound to your glorious leader the fine, hand-crafted details of my block button!

By all means, keeping coming at me thinking any shit-slinging you've got will in any way hurt me.

All you're doing is engaging with the post and spreading the word without realizing what you're doing.

We call that agitprop!

Just like how this is!

Cry some more. Your bitter tears will water the beautiful queer flowers that will spring up in your absence.

[pikopiko-hammer]

first post is a dream, the reblog isnt

anyways, i dont think that this launch couldve gone worse for those three rich dweebs. First it got announced around/during the peak of Mr. Beast getting called out for all of the shit he's done, and then on top of that the announcement itself gets dunked on by fucking danTDM, and now its being sold with LITERAL FUCKING MOLD IN IT??? Jesus fucking christ

Not to mention the actual meal looks like dogshit but thats more of a personal taste thing

Dan and Phil got sponsored by Lunchly and I cried.

[theferalukulelist]

I'm paladin Folk-Span, I'm about to dunk on this fishing dweeb, and this... is Jackass!

[cybertronian-menace]

Jägermeister my fucking beloved. Jagerbombs. My sweet sweet maple syrup concoction of get figgity fugged up. I thought I didn't like alcohol until. Jäger. It appeared to me like that scene in lego batman. I just diiiiied in your aaaarms toooooonight must of been something you saaaaaaid.

I think Papyrus Undertale would knock back jägerbombs with me. We'd get TRASHED and then build puzzles all over the house to fuck with Sans. But they'd be bad puzzles. Because 1) we're fucking dweebs and 2) we're wasted. But Sans would play along because 1) He's like the ultimate big brother to Papyrus and 2) He's also a fucking dweeb.

And the night would end with me and Papyrus like. We'd probably be passed out on the living room floor. With various illegible puzzle blue prints scattered around us. And I think Sans would like. Just leave us there. Because he's lazy. But he'd totally write on pur faces with marker. Because he's a silly goof. But like. If Sans was passed out drunk on the living room floor?!?!?! I'd TOTALLY carry him to bed. And tuck him in. And put a nice big bottle of water on his nightstand. And the crawl in bed next to him. And draw on his face with marker because lMAO GET DUNKED OOOOON!!!! lol. What the original point of this post??? I don't remember.

But I think Undyne would also smash jägerbombs with me. And we'd end up in the hospital because we'd like. Probably burn her house down again trying to cook. Or something. But it'd be SO fun. And Alphys and Sans would be SO stressed because their girlfriends are IDIOTS. but it's ok because they love us sooooooo much.

I MIGHT be tipsy. Lol.

[mediumcutsteak]

Like A Warrior (Ichiban Isekai Pitch)

I'm sure I'm not the first person to suggest this, but after Infinite Wealth, I think Ichiban needs his first real spinoff. And I think it should be an Isekai adventure. I realize some people might roll their eyes, but alot of Isekai's worst trappings and annoyances get set aside by bringing in characters we already actually like like Ichiban, Nanba, Adachi, and Saeko.

The story would be easy to write with a competent writer's room. Some turbo nerd causes an Isekai portal that rips him and Ichiban's party to a fantasy RPG world, and so Ichi, Nanba, Adachi, and Sae have to escape while Zhao, Joongi-han, Seoung-hui, and idk maybe Kiryu or someone try to help them get back from their side. The theme of the story is healthy vs unhealthy escapism, as Ichiban tries to get home without a thought to staying ("I have a friends, a city to go back to now. A home."), while the villain dweeb is set on staying because his real life sucks. Itd be even more fun if Ichiban has to play the Demon Lord while the villain plays hero because of his delusiona of grandeur (while also tying back to Ichiban's consistent theme of being the underdog that people have to learn to root for). In the end, maybe the villain can be redeemed through Ichiban's support, or maybe he rejects Ichiban's advice and destroys himself. Either way, you have a plot with a strong thematic core, a hero and villain with thematic continuity (especially since Ichiban should be able to relate to unhealthy escapism with his early years obsession with DQ), relevant to modern issues like male loneliness epidemic and the increasing isolation and escapism of people, and all of it is synchronous with the type of game being made

And Ichiban can be a total dweeb! Just cause hes not staying doesnt mean hes not excited to be in a real fantasy world with magic and stuff! And all his friends are like "this kinda sucks" but also are kind of happy for their boy and are willing to induldge him some. We get a new dope setting made by the best map designers in the business, with all kinds of weird minigames like working at an alchemists shop, and the more you play the minigame the better the items in supply will be. Little stuff like that. Have a bunch of unsubtle references to popular RPGs, and do the Ishin thing where we have fantasy versions of other characters (Dragonkin Kiryu as an optional boss????).

With a half way comptent writer's room and RGG's usual penchant for silliness, i think this is a slam dunk.