#like a hotdog

[bucknastysbabe]

Aemond “it looks better on me” 👑👑👑👑👑

Do you think aegon’s dick burnt off

Nah it remained pretty sure?? in F&B he just couldn’t get it up bc his pelvis was shattered and in too much pain :/ plus he was drinking to deal with the pain and ahem ARBOR RED whiskey DICK

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in in, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[kenchann]

o sleep

[jakkenpoy]

[flamingpudding]

Glitterbombs for rogues

A/N: I got sick over the holidays. So I did not do any of the writing I originally wanted to do. So instead of that Christmas Story you get this Mark Rober inspired little tidbit.

Tim had a new favorite Engineer Youtube. The boy was a bit younger than him but a genius Engineer judging by the hand full of videos Tim had marathoned through. According to the listed self-introduction part of the video, Danny was currently an engineering student in Gotham with the goal to work one day for NASA. (Tim held out some hopes that he maybe could snag the kid for WE if possible. He had already sent out an internship offer after the third video he had watched)

Either way, Danny had potential and ideas that borderlined on mad science. But made his videos of his little projects even more entertaining and interesting to watch. Tim's favorite so far was Danny's explanation on how he reconstructed his toaster so that it would launch itself into space after the third his roommate burned toast with it. He did buy his roommate a new toaster at the end of the video though.

Still Tim liked this guy and his videos. So with anticipation he clicked on one of the newer videos. The title having caught his attention: 'Why Glitter'.

Instead of the usual introduction bit with little highlights of Danny's previous project the video started out with a big fat warning in red letter to not attempt to replicate anything in the video. That had Tim very curious already, but then a little video clip following that had Tim spitting out the coffee he was just sipping from.

Thankfully he missed spitting on his phone, still he jumped out of his cozy bed where he had been watching YouTube on his phone and hurried over to his laptop. The video, meanwhile, was continuing playing. He could hear the usual music from the introduction part as well as Danny's voice explaining his reasosn -which were valid, Tim had to agree with some of them- once that part was done.

By now he had fired up his laptop and was researching. The video in the background was explaining how Danny had build his Glitterbombs similar to the once another youtuber had but slightly modified them since he was not going to use fart-spray. Tim eyes widened as he found the first correlating news articles, wondering how they hadn't seen them sooner, but a glance at the date revealed that they were only posted a couple of hours ago.

Danny in the video was no explaining about his fist chooses victim and Tim dived onto his bed from his desk to get his phone back in his hands. Wide eyed, he watched as Danny obviously with a GoPro strapped to his head, crawled through what looked like an air vent. Once he reached an opening he looked through the slits into what appeared to be Riddlers hide out. Danny took the Camara of his head so that he could grin into it making the sign for silence as he barely contained his own chuckles. The other then waited for a moment, the camera work now getting wonky and the video even glitching out but a second later Danny was back in focuse before pointing down and then directing the Camara to his view. There in Riddlers hideout now sat Danny's self engineered glitterbomb.

"No he didn't..." Tim muttered as the video cut to a different scene. Danny was now walking through the sewers, humming cheerfully while explaining why he chose who he choose.

Another cut and... Tim spluttered. How the hell did Danny manage to just walk into Arkam?! So he hadn't seen wrong at the beginning of the video.

Growing paller with every cut on how Danny delivered his self-engineered Glitter bombs, Tim started to fear for his new favorite youtubers safety. Thankfully he had already done his work on Danny's person when he sent the internship offer. Now he just needed to get Danny to freaking safty.

He dragged himself to his laptop still in disbelieve as various clips of the rogues getting glitterbombed from the bombs perspective started playing. And yep, he definitely didn't see wrong now in the beginning. The Joker was one of Danny's chooses victums. Aside from the fact that he was so going to download and save that video for eternity as well as share it with his brothers and friends, (because as funny as it was that most of them were Gotham rogues, Luther and another millionaire by the name of Masters had also been made victims.), he still had to figure out how to ensure this definitely insane youtubers safer from the warmth of 90% of their rogues now.

Great newly discovered favorite youtuber has just painted a big fat red target on himself.

Tim was just about to call everyone in when a bonus at the end of Danny's video started to play.

He recognized that safe house.

He recognizes the weapons displayed on the walls also.

Oh... that's...

Still laughing Tim still sent out a message to everyone. When asked why all he did was sent them the link to the video with to timestamps.

The first one of the Joker getting glitterbombed

The second one being Red Hood getting glitterbombed.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Tryin to overpower the seasonal sadness and go into Costco. Best case scenario they have the peaches. Worst case I’m left for dead in a back aisle having run out of will to live.

Let’s roll the dice.

[lyss-sketchbox]

Been thinking about your wing au so much that upon hearing the words "fold up your wings and fall with me" in a song I now immediately have associated that song with the ship and cannot listen to it without thinking of them (this is not actually a complaint or anything I just felt the need to share)

Yeah. Man me when.... me when they.... they......

[catsharky]

How it feels to headshot enemies in New Vegas

My annual 'I should play more Fallout 4' urge happened to line up with everyone and their mom getting into/back into Fallout this year, but I haven't played since I got my new computer and wasn't willing to hunt down the list of mods I had installed so I just gave New Vegas a second attempt instead (my first one stalled out at 50 hours or so)

Dance was referenced from a NakeyJakey clip but I can't for the life of me remember which video it comes from

Also my life exploded recently (I'm aight just tired+stressed af) and this was me attempting to take a break and draw something simple and stupid. Unfortunately I have terminal overdoing it disease���

[greelin]

hotdog & burger place that has the best veggie dogs i’ve ever had in a restaurant setting and allows you to get two combo meals for like $16 (unheard of in this day and age) has an insane thing going on. decor-wise

[housecow]

Who says you have to be one or the other? I think you could have lots of fun transitioning between a housebound cow on oxygen and the fattest soccer mom possible. Maybe it’s all in the timing, maybe start out as a housebound cow and shift into soccer mom mode later.

okay, this is hot as fuck. getting to experience the limits of what my body can handle and then losing a portion of the weight—not too much, just enough to be easily mobile again, managing my health as well. but i’m still, what, 350-400lbs?

the whispers i’d hear from the other parents… “she’s such a fucking cow,” “how much do you think she weighs?” “there’s just so much… flab!”

and little do they know this is my lightest from the last few years. that i’d been 600lbs at some point, needing help up from bed and from anywhere i’d plopped down to feast. that my husband had plumped me up to obscene numbers, reveling in the fact i was dependent on him for almost everything.

my present soft, full, wobbling figure is the result of hard work. not only to get active, but in denying both myself and my spouse. we know what we want, but it’s for the kids now! they need a mom that can keep up with them. sure, i get winded easily, can’t see my feet or even past my tits, but this is an improvement!!

others just see my huffing and puffing as a failure, when it’s the opposite. it takes dedication. the extra wide folding chair i pull out at every soccer game was bought with pride, and the way my husband squeezes that back roll he gifted me is comforting.

sure, it still takes a lot of food to keep up with being 400lbs… i still eat like a pig. sonic shakes at every game and countless fast food runs before 3:30pm school pickup. i RSVP to neighborhood/school bbqs and they have to spend double the amount on food (we chip in!) but it’s all a labor of love!

plus, when it’s just my feeder and i, he gets to tease me about it all. talks about how hot it was when i needed the walker. how much of a shut in i was compared to now—“remember when you couldn’t even drive because your belly was in the way?”

he’d lay a hand on my still-formidabile tummy, stretched out from the hundreds of lbs and a few of his kids. i know he wants so badly to get me back there, i can tell what he’s thinking. and if he started that process—funneling every night, telling me what to eat and when—i wouldn’t be able to stop him. but we’re responsible :3

[paracosmicessence]

I saw on Twitter that you don’t like Sonic and Shadow’s noses. You don’t like their silly little burnt hotdog lookin noses? 🥺

BURNT HOTDOG NOSES HELP???????

[chucapybara]

zzz sleepy thoughts

laying in bed with your fave. it's a cold night as the inevitable chill of low temps season washes over you and your beloved. there's a blanket at the foot of the bed, of course, but what reason did you have to use it when you had someone else to share warmth with?

you tend to get cold at the extremities faster than others, and you've always struggled to find a way to restore feeling to the numbed nerves. on nights like these, there's one simple solution.

you slip your hand under your darling's nightclothes, humming softly as the warmth of their skin soothes at your touch, banishing the chill. your love stirs some from a half-doze, nuzzling deeper into your hair and breathing deeply, your eyes catching the way her chest rises and falls with contentment—the same fuzzy feeling filling cotton in every inch of your drowsy head.

you take her little imperceptible groan of delight as invitation, and settle your freezing palms on a nice, comfortable spot along the curve of your lover's back, your thighs curling around hers as twining vines ought to do. and you know, simple as it is, that your sleep won't be quite as sniffly tonight—and neither will your mornings be, either.

[ibetittering]

We all know who wears the pants in the relationship

@katzenklavierr for the art 😋

[roberrtphilip]

There's an awkward "first date" silence between them, the kind that suggests there isn't going to be a "second". Giselle tries her best to keep the conversation going.

[redvelvetbunny]

I LOVE U REDVELVETBUNNY... could u draw lou with a ponytail or a silly hairstyle .. grhthdhh

okay louis we get it you whip your hair back and forth

[me-beef]

horses can be sisters too??