internet throw up

so @powerfulweak sent me this post, proposing that  this is how Holster and Shitty make fun of Jack and Ransom - they insist that all Canadians eat their ice cream from pine cones. It happens frequently enough for the chirping to become casual and sound serious. So much so, that they manage to convince Chowder that it’s true:
”Brah, no lie. Canadians discovered that the pinecone is the perfect shape to naturally form the spiraled swirls around.” 
“They’ve been doing it with snow for centuries.”
“But how… How do they eat it?" 
"Chowder, my boy, that’s just part of growing up in the wilds of Canada; eating pines cones, fighting moose, surviving on nothing but Tim Horton’s coffee-” "Holster, STFU! That’s not true!" 
"Ransom, you’ve driven 4 hours for a cup of Tim Horton’s, don’t play that shit with me”
“… well, it’s good coffee" 

Shitty even goes as far as getting a soft-serve machine for the Haus. Chowder loses his shit when everyone’s gathered around it and Jack goes outside and comes back in with a pinecone and asks for a serving, because he’s a Canadian Troll™ (*shows Chowder an old peewee hockey scar* "My first moose fight… that guy was a scrapper.” *cue Holster barely keeping it together and Shitty having to leave the room bc Jack’s so straight-faced*)


The newest mp100 chapter featuring a collapsing Mob and a sentient broccoli has messed me up, y’all. Also I’ve been wanting to try getting into some of the mp100 character’s heads, so here’s a short attempt.

Mob would not wake up.

It had been a week since the Divine Tree incident, as the citizens of Spice City had begun to call it. A week since Mob had confronted Dimple at the giant broccoli, a week since Mob had talked Dimple out of his ambitions of godhood, only to have the sentient form of the plant rear its head to battle for its hold on the city. A week since Mob had fallen into a deep sleep and the being that inhabited Mob’s unconscious body had awakened, blasting the enormous plant into oozing chunks as large as buildings, then floating them out into the ocean. A week since Dimple had last been seen, escorting the floating pieces out to sea and remaining nearby to ensure they would stay, dormant, in the ocean where they had been dropped. 

It had been a week since Mob’s body had collapsed, still, silent, to the ground, alone but for the crowd slowly arousing from their brainwashing. The panic-stricken citizens had rioted in the streets, left floundering after the tree’s extraction from the city and their minds. It had been hours before the small, motionless form of Kageyama Shigeo had been found mere meters from the breaking waves. He had not stirred since. 

Kageyama Ritsu sat in the corner of the hospital room, head bowed, arms crossed, glowering at anyone who approached him. He did not want their comfort. He could not stop thinking about how easily he’d been brainwashed by the cult, had so easily abandoned his brother. Only when the nurses were absent for long stretches of time in the night did he creep up to the unmoving form of his brother, whispering apologies, stifling sobs. 

Hanazawa Teruki kept constantly on the move. He flitted about the city, helping to remove rubble from the streets and pull people out of collapsed buildings in the aftermath of the broccoli’s extraction until he could collapse straight into an exhausted sleep each night. He did not think about the role he had played in the affair, how he had been coerced into attacking the one person who had set him on his new, more fulfilling way of living. He did not think about how he’d wrapped his arm around Mob’s neck in a macabre echo of the first time they had met, or that Mob’s last memory of him might be being forced to blast Teru out of the tree for his own safety. 

Reigen Arataka paced the floors of the hospital, making incessant demands of the staff. He dragged to Mob’s room any new doctor he had confused, manipulated, or even begged into looking at his student; none of them could tell him anything new about Mob’s condition. He did not think about the last words he’d said to Mob: that he would not go with him, that Mob would have to go confront the power behind the Divine Tree alone. He did not think about how those might be the last words he would ever say to him.

Because Mob still would not wake up.

Part Two: Truths

==> Get physical.

(+Talk diamonds to him.)

You reach out and touch the base of his throat where his chatterbox is humming, and he chokes off, ducking his head, lavendar with embarrassment.  Fuck, you have to make him keep purring.  You need to pile your idiot moirail, right the fuck now.  Not the painful part, the crying part, that’s as much as you can expect from him about it right now.  But…that leaves the fun part.

“…brother?”  Gamzee is looking at you, curious, and as he scrubs his face off on his bony wrists you think you see a wicked glint in his eyes.  He–yeah.  He’s giving you the look.  That stupid, precious, unbearably vulnerable look.  Nobody does pile eyes like your moirail.  “–what you thinking about there?”

You’re going to look so fucking good all laid out and warm and purring,” you tell him, and half the time your awful dirty-talk makes him just laugh but this time he groans softly in his throat and raises his chin, baring the whole long, pale arch of his throat. It’s the oldest and clearest sign of enthusiastic yes-please-shoosh-me-please in the book, and some ancient bit of you turns over in hopeless, helpless affection.  

You’re so much bigger it barely takes an effort to twist around, grab his wrists and lay him back on the couch underneath you.  When you lean your weight on his wrists he lets out a little noise that is unmistakeably a moan, and his ears go purple.  The air is so thick with conciliatory pheromones you can hardly breathe.

You want to feel important to somebody?“ you murmur to him, and lean down to kiss his lips softly, holding his wrists flat on either side of him as he tries to cover the hot purple flush of his cheeks.  “Valued?” The tip of his nose.  “You want to feel loved, you stupid precious fucking pan-leak?  I’ll show you how it feels.”

It’s so good to see the wobbly grin spread on his face, and you mock-growl and nip the air by his throat until he leans up to bump your foreheads together and finally lets out the last hints of frozen tension in his skinny shoulders.

“…please,” he says, and you are such a fucking loser because just that simple word is worth all the stupid dirty porn dialogue you could ever dredge up.  

He didn’t deserve you,” you say, and he sighs and you know it still hurts.  Maybe it always will.

I don’t need him, brother,” he says back, and the air between you is warm and soft with the sound of both of you breathing.  

“I love you.”

He smiles back, and even though you’ve told him a hundred times, there’s the same old, painful relief in his eyes to hear the words.

“I know,” he says.  “…I know.”

= END =

==> Start Over?

Well it looks like my computer (that I got less than two years ago) is toast. Shit.


Rhys mood board

(Meme King Jack AU)

The creation of sans x papyrus
  • [Internet]So there's a huge indie game that's becoming really popular.
  • [r34] pr0n time
  • [r34]ok so frisk,human, pretty simple stuff I'll just draw a dick.
  • [internet]frisks gender is not known.
  • [r34]ok then I'll just draw frisk with male and female genitals!
  • [r34] Toriel is a goat and is female soooo... 6 tittied goat furry?
  • [good side of internet] wtf is wrong with you?
  • [r34] I'll draw flowey as a rape monster
  • [good side of Internet] stop it
  • [r34]hmmm.... Sans and papyrus are skeletons.... So they have no penises....
  • [dark side of Internet]well... Sans has special abilities where he can summon blue bones and shit so....
  • [r34]OMG lightsaber dicks...
  • [dark side of internet] BEST IDEA EVER
  • *hello darkness my old friend plays in the distance*
  • [dark side of Internet]theres a lot of fan art of papyrus doing the same thing but with orange instead of blue...
  • [r34]then we'll give papyrus one too!
  • [bad shippers]this new r34 of undertale is awesome.
  • [bad shippers]*cracks knuckles* fanfic time
  • [r34]I like this ship...
  • [dark side of Internet]pr0n time
  • ONE R34 LATER...
  • [internet]*throws up*
  • [good side of internet]*puts gun in mouth*
  • [tumblr] MOOOOOOOORE
  • And that's how sans x papyrus was made
I don't get blogs designated entirely to anti-feminism.

Like…read a book or watch tv. Why would you waste all of your time on the internet basically throwing up your bad opinion on people who don’t care what you say? I don’t understand. There has to be something better you could be doing.