#nerdzilla

[hypocrisyofandrewdobson]

I figured out why Dobson annoys me so much. He was given a lot. He’s clearly got wealthy parents, he went to a prestigious specialist college, and he has talent. If he’d pulled his head out of his arse he could easily have been quite successful. But he just was so self-absorbed that he could never improve, and instead he thought the career would come to him.

Same problem as MovieBob.

Yeah, Dobson’s arrogance and ego were always on of the more irritating things about him. It’s honestly probably got a decent amounts my of people trolling him for that exact reason. Same with Moviebob. The unearned and unwarranted “I’m so much better and smarter then everyone else, scum that they are” attitude.

That “Nazis ruined eugenics” comment follows Bob around for a reason.

[systemadministratorclu]

/* from the 'be honest...' meme, for Clu, Hal, Sonic, and Tesler */

what scares them most about Ed (and no, you're not allowed to say nothing).

here's another because I'm curious:

I know they haven't met yet, but... How do you imagine Milo and Rourke's first meeting with Ed would end? (chaos and destruction? Besties for the resties? Mortal enemies? Etc?)

(First one)

All of them: LOSING HIM.

Sonic: Don't ever leave, Daddy! (Gives him the "I'm gonna cry if you do" look)

(Second thing)

Ed is kind of a nerd, right?

Milo is Nerdzilla. Supernerd. Lord of the Nerds. You get the idea. He and Ed would probably nerd out together, especially over the advanced tech Milo has access to in Atlantis (a place that, among other tech stuff, had bigass hovercraft TENS OF THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO and whose tech has probably advanced more since 1914). Milo would probably be able to engineer him some computer parts out of garbage and make Ed go 'how the hell did you do that, are you an alien?' (not a huge issue for him because he already knows aliens exist, thank you Sonic).

Poor Rourke* is left being a third wheel to their nerdgasming (he doesn't mind, he thinks Milo is absolutely adorable when he's happily nerding out and he likes seeing Milo happy). Although, he's good at chess (yes, I got that from canon), so maybe Hal plays him while they do that.

*Rourke is (canonically) not dumb, by any means, no matter what most of the fandom thinks. He's just as intelligent as Milo, but his intelligence area isn't academics. It's actually pretty similar to Tesler, who he'd definitely get along great with if he and Milo went to the Grid.

[systemadministratorclu]

Milo is so fucking cute, ugh, I love you, you nerdzilla dorkasaurus.

Im in that era.. The fact that Marty plays Milo is so iconic lol

[eotix]

My new animated short! Join Dorkzilla as he runs into all his kaiju pals!

[infamydire]

Part 3, Episode 1 of Pucker Up! - “Welcome to St. Dymph’s”

The bus slowed down into an exit, where the streets blended into pavement paths and the forest shielded the white bus from the beating sun. No matter how hard Wilma tried, she could not find any other building among the trees except for the tall, black silhouette of a structure that stood before the dirt path and the little white bus. Wilma did not feel overwhelmed by the foliage, however. In fact, she thought of the trees as benevolent beings, sheltering her.

After what seemed like forever, the bus neared a black, iron gate which buzzed and clicked open. Outside Wilma’s window were girls of all shapes, sizes, and colors stalking the campus grounds in clusters before a looming clock tower and its adjacent buildings, covered with gothic decor and tall, black windows. Ivy on the side of the buildings were red and shrinking away from the stone walls, but the clipped and crisp grass lawn of the campus was rich dark green. Electric lamp posts lined the walkway to the front doors, which were a red mess in the middle of the elegant stone architecture.

A round woman with curled, brown hair stood before the bus stop on the edge of the grass, wiped her brow, and adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses. Besides the fact she wore a pastel pink woolen sweater and navy blue slacks on a hot September morning, the woman was clearly anxious to begin, as her face was pink as her sweater and she fidgeted with her clipboard.

Wilma stole a glance at the bus driver who muttered, “Good luck.”

What was strange was that he sounded disappointed, which was rather worrying to Wilma, though she could not indulge in her worries as she cautiously took her first steps off the bus.

“Hello!” The pink woman smiled, “May I have your name?”

“Wilma...” Wilma trailed off to look at her classmates, all of which were observing her. “...Roth? Wilma Roth.”

A wave of cold pricks crawled down her spine. She never expected anyone to pay attention to her, so their avid interest in her unsettled her greatly. To Wilma, this this blatant ogling was alien. She always sat in the corner, away from the crowds. Usually, someone would take a look, but it was always quick and hidden, as they wanted to judge but never engage in what they were seeing. You could say it is a bit cowardly of them, but there was still a slither of respect to it. However, the girls in the courtyard had none for Wilma. She was their sideshow attraction.

“Mhm! Here you are!” The woman crossed off a line on her papers, “My name is Ms, Knitty! I am your counselor and your temporary tour guide! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Wilma, but you’re very late! Come with me!”

Wilma walked behind Miss Knitty to the doors, which upon closer inspection were a brutish red colored wood tangled by some matte colored metal. Wilma quickly glanced at the girls, who had neared closer, startling her.

It appeared there was no official school uniform. Girls in an array of styles and fashions leaned across the lamp posts and shifted to the steps Wilma took. Quick snorts, dead eyes and furrowed brows. The girls grouping towards the new kid parted before Miss Knitty, but closed in right behind Wilma, who was now internally screaming at herself to keep walking and looking ahead. As she walked, whispers followed and shouts cried out, taunting her. Wilma heard them loud and clear but she mentally blocked out their words so they were nothing but noise.

With a slight strain, Miss Knitty opened the doors to the innards of the academy. Besides the girls milling about, the hallways were incredibly clean and white. White subway tiles bordered between the bright-red lockers and the pale walls. Wilma found herself thinking how her old school’s appearance paled in comparison to what she was seeing. As she walked down the pristine hallway, Wilma for a moment believed she was in a church, until a girl with a pastel purple undercut and black sports pants began to make a sign with her hand.

It was odd. Even as she squinted, Wilma could not understand the motion. Was it sign language? A gang sign? A motion? What does the split fingers mean? Why is she sticking out her tongue? Why does she have to stare at Wilma as she flicks it?

Wait. Wait.

Wilma’s neck flushed a furious red.

Miss Knitty noticed Wilma’s shock and grabbed her arm to tug her away from the purple one. She turns to a hulking guard and a younger guard in the distance, “Mr. Marino!”

“Yes, Miss Knitty?”  the guard sauntered over. His belly lurched over his belt and twig-thin legs. He had a mug of coffee in his paws and brought it to his whiskered lip, which was as stark black as his crew cut.

Mr. Marino had just been interrupted from a...well, how could he describe it? Informative conversation with his trainee, Elm, who had excitedly jumped from one subject to another about painstakingly detailed artistry of woodwork. He had taken a liking to Elm, a jittery, but happy kid. Though the guard had found his underling’s passion refreshing, he was overwhelmed by the splurge of information and found solace in Miss Knitty’s interruption.

“What’s the matter, now?” he was notably tired but he spoke amicably.

“This one.” Knitty motioned to the purple haired girl, who was still eying the flustered Wilma and flicking her tongue between her fingers oh so slowly. “I’ve got my hands full, so...”

The guard sighed and smacked his lips. He shifted his massive weight to the purple haired girl, “Okay, kiddo! Scram!”

She protested, “Mr. Marino, I was just introducing the new kid-!”

“No! You’re just being creepy, Gabby.”

“How am I being creepy? I’m just throwing some friendly signs to my friend!”

In the middle of her protest, Gabby’s face briefly broke her darkened gaze to wink at Wilma when she caught her eye. Wilma’s face burned in embarrassment.

This look did not slip by Mister Marino, who promptly blocked Wilma from Gabby’s line of sight and spoke, “Giving the blowjob sign is a little more than friendly.”

Gabby huffed, “A friendship blowie? What’s wrong with a friendship blowie?”

Mr. Marino sighed a great sigh once more. As Wilma was tugged along by Miss Knitty, she saw Mr. Marino gesture to the purple haired girl, who had then tried to snatch his walkie talkie with incredible speed, but was stopped short when he swept her off the floor and gently placed her to his side as if he was lugging a carry-on bag. She then immediately began to claw for the baton on his belt, but he grabbed both her hands in one paw and hoisted her over his shoulder in one motion. Gabby screamed and squirmed furiously on his shoulder as he walked away.

“EYO, GLASSES!” Gabby screeched.

Wilma turned around, not sure what to expect.

“You! Me! Janitor’s closet! At Lunch!” she cackled as Mr. Marino carried her away.

Wilma was certainly not taking that offer.

Wilma looked to Miss Knitty for an explanation or some sort of excuse for the bizarre string of events, but Miss Knitty merely slapped a smile on her face and looked away.

“Erm! Let’s move on, shall we?”

---

Miss Knitty and Wilma took to the turning halls of the academy, lined with bulletin boards, picture frames, and trophy cases. Miss Knitty was rattling off about the classes and the extracurricular activities and scheduling and the therapy St. Dymphna’s had in store, pointing to the hallway adornments and displays. She was doing a splendid job. Pointing and talking on cue. A perfect little actor.

Wilma would have paid attention. She usually does, but her attention was captured by the cautionary posters lined across the hall. Most of these posters were usually adorned with desaturated and surreal images, outdated font choices, and comically blunt slogans concerning a number of topics.

Cocaine kills. With a lovely image of a man directing a gun to his nostril.

Chronic Masturbation? It’s worse than you think. A girl with running mascara and her hand to her forehead in feigned frustration.

Before Wilma could read the next poster, a student burst out of a closet door with a smudge of white under her lip, laughing and pulling her pants up in a hurry to then sprint down the hallway.

It seems these posters never worked.

Miss Knitty at this point was bound to win an Academy Award for her efforts. Her face was clearly flushed, which was definitely not due to the heat (the school was freezing), but her rage. This tour must have been a disaster. Those goddamn girls just have to ruin everything, yet her smile clenched onto that round pink face with what appeared to be the sweetest intentions. Wilma had considered asking a question, but by the looks of her smile, which was hanging by the thread, she decided to leave Knitty be, only nodding when Miss Knitty turned to her.

They followed the mottled, beige floor to the heart of the facility, a circular hall with two twin staircases. Between the staircases was the coat of arms of the academy, which was a golden shield with maroon details and a pair of wings with a spear impaling the letter “D” in the center. The staircases lead to a glimmering balcony that trimmed the walls and a large window, caking the room in sunlight spare the two figures and their silhouettes that stood on the balcony’s platform.

She could not see their faces, blackened by the shadows but she could make out the smaller figure to be a lithe, young man with frizzy, brown hair piled on his head. He wore a crisp band collared shirt under a knitted sweater vest and a khaki colored suit. The youth stood very still and close to the other figure, who on the other hand was something else.

The figure’s frame stood tall and stiff, as if he was recently starched and stretched out of proportion. Wilma thought she saw growths protrude from each side of his head, but with the swivel of the silhouette’s head, she realized it was his hair, black, coarse, and straightened with a wild trail of white. The figure contorted his body to lean to his right, shaking the shadows to expose the red garments he wore. His black leather gloves hooked onto his crooked wooden cane, a twisted thing with a knotted, copper head of some animal. The red figure’s shadow was even darker than his companion’s and within it were striking brown eyes.

Wilma had realized the man in red and his brown eyes stared back.

“Hello, Headmaster!” Miss Knitty chirped to the man in red.

She nodded to the youth, “Sherman.” He nodded in return.

“Miss Knitty,” Headmaster spoke. As he moved his mouth, disembodied teeth shined from the dark.

“How’s the weather up there?” Miss Knitty’s plastic smile widened.

A loud crackle of sound spilled from the Headmaster’s open jaw. No, a laugh.

That was a laugh?

“Well, a lot nicer than down there, Theresa,” Headmaster hummed, his voice reverberating throughout the hall.

Miss Knitty was taken aback for a moment, but her previous troubles melted away from her face.

“Miss Wilma, this is your principal, Headmaster,” Miss Knitty beamed. A principal named Headmaster? No, that’s his title. Right?

Wilma silently panicked and forced herself to look once more at the brown eyes. She had hoped not to speak a word during this encounter. Luckily, she planned for unwanted introductions.

Wilma weakly waved, “Hello, Mr…?”

An achingly long moment of quiet passed as the man offered nothing, but he bore his eyes deep into Wilma as if he were expecting something. Something from Wilma. Something witty perhaps? Unfortunately, Wilma could not find the words to break the silence.

She did not know what he wanted so she sat there helplessly as he glared. It was not just a look of expectation but borderline disappointment. Of hope but knowing.

Knowing that her brilliance was ultimately average.

Knowing that anything she said was as deep as a puddle.

Knowing that the sorry mess before him was all he would receive.

Wilma desperately wanted to leave. She didn’t need his approval. Wilma did not need his recommendation letter or network, nor did he seem like someone to befriend. Anyways, she knows who she is and what she stands for. She knows the schools she will attend and the professors she will study under and the jobs she will apply for. Her life was a clear path.

At least...before the incident. She had hoped to forget it and finish her time here, but this man was not helping. He tapped on his cane mechanically, a loud click for every silent second that passed by. The bastard.

“‘A’,” Knitty broke the silence. “You can call him ‘Mr. A’, but ‘Headmaster’ is preferred.” She pressed her hand on Wilma’s shoulder. “Anyways, we have to leave! Lot’s to do! Nice to see you, sir!”

The shadow on the Headmaster’s face shifted as he pursed his lips.

Again, there was no response from the Man in Red as Wilma and Miss Knitty scurried away from him and his gaze.

---

Wilma Roth never attended a sleepover, a slumber party, or a sleep-away camp. She never spent a night in a hotel or another person’s bed. Whenever a slumber party invitation came to her, Wilma was immediately met with resistance from her mother, which usually came with anxiety-induced questions.

Where is this? When is it? Who is hosting this? Who is going to be there? Do I know their parents? Do I have their phone numbers? What are you going to do there? Are you going to leave the house? What if your friends dare you to do something dangerous? What if your friend’s dad is a pedophile?

If her answers to the questions did not satiate her mother’s fears, Wilma could never attend an overnight stay with friends. This often left Wilma to hear stories of wild slumber parties, but never experiencing them.

So imagine her mother’s horror when Wilma was sent away to this academy.

Her mother’s nervous touch had rattled Wilma for years and it didn’t fail to shake her now. Wilma had told herself that yes, she was in a reform school. Yes, that this meant her classmates were more dangerous and toxic than the average high school student. Yes, that this would instill sleepless nights in the dorms spent staring at the door for an intruder or in the case her roommate were to shank her in her sleep. Yes, yes, yes, so many possibilities, but Wilma tried her best to relieve her nerves and found herself ever so slightly calming down.

Miss Knitty stopped before a door that read “080”.

“Well! Here’s your dorm! Say hello to your bunkmate!”

The door creaked open to show a scraggly girl throwing garbage in a burning trash can with a pentagram and a chicken clucking and struggling in her hands, then she stopped suddenly to turn her head menacingly towards the door.

“Ah...”

Miss Knitty plastered that cheasure smile despite her terror. (Damn, she’s good.) “That’s...that’s not her, but...I should go! Have fun!”

“W-wait! Miss?” Wilma sputtered, but Miss Knitty power-walked faster than a PTA mom at a Whole Foods sale and quickly made to the stairs. Wilma’s roommate turned back to her chicken and silenced its bawking by snapping its neck. One in this situation would assure themselves that nothing worse could happen now, but what would push them to the edge would be their trusty bookbag’s straps snapping. Unfortunately for Wilma, this was the case, causing the bag and its contents to fall and spill onto the ground.

Wilma barely had the time to breathe or pick up her books when she was pushed into the wall by a sudden force. Wilma kept very still, as any resistance would have made no difference under her attacker’s iron grip.

A girl to the left of her assaulter laughed, “Oooo, hello! I didn’t think I would find Steve Urkel here!”

Wilma gasped and shuddered, “Oh my gosh!” Wilma was no stranger to this kind of treatment, but she was more shocked by how early this harassment was happening. It took weeks. Months, even. But an hour? Impressive.

“A nerd in the flesh! This is so dumb convenient!” a smaller girl popped up to get a view of the action.

If you’re going to say something. Keep it short. Keep it short. Keep it short.

“D-did I do something wrong? D-did I mess up? I-is something wrong? I-i’m s-sorry if I did something wrong!” Wilma croaked.

Jesus Christ.

“Nothin’! we just wanna make you feel welcome to our humble abodeeeee,” one of the girls crooned.

The smaller girl couldn’t hold it in any longer and spat out, “CHECK HER HOODIE! The hoodie though! Check her hoodie!” She giggled excitedly.

“Why?” asked one of the girls.

“Cuz usually you find a surprise!”

No, not the hoodie. Not the hoodie.

“What the-! Don’t! Please!” Wilma cried.

The girl holding her down lifted her hoodie to reveal a plain white t-shirt. The girls groaned in disappointment, but Wilma was relieved. Wilma had no interest in showing her eczema-ridden skin.

“Wear a shitty shirt or something!” the smaller girl slapped Wilma’s arm. “You’re making this boring!”  

Wilma attempted to sputter a word, “B-b-bu-”

“B-b-by my calculations!” one of the girls mocked, “I should be shitting Rubik’s cubes!”

“You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if she shits Rubik’s Cubes.”

“Mhm...should we check?”

Wilma would have shivered at that comment, but found herself frowning at their outdated impression of a nerd. The Steve Urkel comment made her cringe, but it was tolerable. However, the ‘calculations’ and ‘Rubik’s Cubes’ bit went a little too far.

“But if she’s so uptight what she in for?”

“Shot up a school maybe?”

“I mean, she kinda looks the part though.”

“Hey, you shot up a school?”

WHAT!?! Wilma furiously shook her head.

“What are you in here for then?”

Wilma swallowed, “I...I hurt someone…”

“Mmmm haven’t we all?”

“Details!” the girls pressed harder.

“I...it was...arson…”

The girls scoffed, “Okay...“

“-and attempted murder.”

The girls jumped back and retracted their grip from Wilma.

“Holy shit! I’m sorry, man!” One of the girls put her hands up in defense.

The smaller girl paced, “Can you warn us next time? Shit!”

The girls scampered away from Wilma with their sneakers screeching across the hall, who was left alone to face the confused expressions of the other students around her. They promptly turned away to their own business as the bell rang.

Before Wilma could finally pick up her fallen textbooks, a scraggly girl stood before her with wide, ghastly eyes.

“Uhhh...” had slipped from Wilma’s lips. She closed her eyes for a moment and opened them, hoping that this girl would vanish. She did not.

“A-Are you going to-”

The girl cuts Wilma off, “-My name is Tweeker.”

“O-oh.”

“So...you like Chemistry?”

Tweeker had referred to the chemistry textbook on the floor, (something about hte name). Tweaker a shivering girl with dry ponytails, hair fraying in twisting in contorted shapes. She wore a grey-blue sweatshirt with incredibly long cuffs, flopping over her hands, and black and white plaid pajama pants, picking the cuffs of her sleeves and its stray strings.

Wilma held a her book to her chest, “Yeah...”

“I like Chemistry, too.”

Surprised, Wilma said, “R-really?”

Tweeker grunted.

Wilma politely smiled, though it was hard to keep up the facade considering what had just happened before.

Tweeker sighed, “Knitty ‘showed’ you around, right?”

“Yeah…”

The girl shuffled her shoes, “So...what if I show you around? I mean, we really don’t have the best introductions here.”

Wilma stopped short and looked up.

Maybe that’s an offer she would take. 

[dirbenaffleck]

Ben Affleck gets to play Batman, hang out with Jason Momoa, and bang J-Lo.

The man really is living the dream.

happy for him

[systemadministratorclu]

//excuse me while I laugh at those hilariously accurate nicknames.....though Lyle says he doesn't make 'goo-goo' eyes (he so totally does)//

He just smiled at her. The cute little one that was just his natural smile, gentle and innocent-looking like he was.

"I wouldn't if it were any other one. But I know you wouldn't hurt me. Anyway, you.....I dunno, you just looked like you could use that.......Also, I am definitely holding onto 'Mr. Mountain', he hasn't heard that one before, his face will be priceless, and I need payback for him coming up with 'Nerdzilla' and 'King Nerdzilla' for me"

"Surprise hug" Milo to Doom, because why not, and he's the little cute one of the two.

Send "🤗" or "Surprise Hug" to Hug My Muse Without Any Context.

The whole concept of a surprise hug being a surprise naturally takes Doomsday by surprise. Funny how she can see through walls, but she can't see this skinny little toothpick running at her and suddenly throwing his arms around her until it's too late. It's probably because he blends in with the scenery for how scrawny he is.

Doom long ago shed any desire for physical affection when she forgot what it was like. Even before she died, and before she'd gotten stuck in the office with the universe's most crotchety old man with the universe's biggest stick up his ass, she hadn't had any physical affection in... so long she'd forgotten how long it had been. And then, of course, her time spent in the office, as just mentioned. And then when the mist killed her and destroyed her soul, and took with it all five of her senses, leaving her with literally nothing, not even the ability to move on into the afterlife. After all that, she lost all desire for any touch from others. What was the point if she couldn't even feel it?

She does have some of her sense of touch back now, though. About 20% of it, but that's 20% more than she had before, and so she is very surprised when that skinny little toothpick actually latches onto her in an embrace and she can feel it as it's intended.

Of course she responds in kind by acting like she's about to pick him up and throw him, but changes her mind at the last second and just hugs him back instead. "Okay, okay, nerdy nerd, whoever taught you it was okay to sneak up on a Reaper? I could have knocked your soul out of your body and then who would Mr. Mountain make goo-goo eyes at?" she snickers.

The ghost lets him go and ruffles up his hair. She's never going to tell him that the mist took away her ability to cry too.

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: y/n’s on a skateboard again and yoongi’s a good boyfriend

uni!yoongi and uni!y/n have a special place in my heart and are undoubtedly one of the cutest couples on this blog so i wrote a little self-indulgent something about the two of them literally just.,.,. walking together on campus

this tidbit should really just be named y/n and yoongi are taking a stroll  

:-))

                                       »»————-　♡　————-««

“i mean… i guess i can kind of see why i’d get a B- on that paper because i kind of rushed through it, but… ugh, i don’t know! i’m not a B- student! a B+, i would’ve been okay with… but a B-?? really?” you frown, a little divot appearing in between your brows

you got an assignment back today and you were slightly (very) disappointed to see that you’d been graded a B-

a big fat written in BRIGHT red B- 

B- is roughly around the 69-75% range and is… exceedingly average and most certainly not what you expected you’d get

your papers are fantastic!! 

you know how to write papers!!!

your titles are always really clever 

your thesis statements are always clear 

your arguments are always really specific 

and let’s not even talk about your conclusions because the way you end an essay is equivalent to plunking a perfect little maraschino cherry on top of a perfect hot fudge sundae

and not to menTION your annotated bibliographies should be hung up at museums because that’s how beautiful they are 

you personally think you always hand in A+ essays

sometimes A- essays 

but a B-??

absolutely ridiculous! 

preposterous!

never heard of! 

“okay, it’s fine! this is fine!” you chuckle, your voice a little pitchier than normal, “a B- isn’t that bad and i have another chance to redeem myself for the next assignment- and, by the way, i’m not trying to be one of those students who are like oH nO a B-!!! it’s the end of the world!!” you mock, raising your free hand and waving it slightly, “but i just thought that i would get at least an A on this assignment, you know? at the same time, i feel like papers are tricky to grade because different professors grade papers differently which sucks- are you paying any attention to me or what?”

yoongi glances up at you for a brief second before scoffing lightly and turning to look forward again, “of course i’m not paying attention to you, nerdzilla. i can’t listen to you and steer you at the same time. you know i’m no good at multitasking.”

“well i-!” your arm tightens around yoongi’s neck when the skateboard rolls over a crack on the ground and you jump a little in surprise 

“woah there-” yoongi immediately sticks the side of his shoe against the front right wheel of the board to stop it from moving 

he waits for a second to make sure that you’re still stable before starting to walk again 

“oh, don’t look so sad,” yoongi teases, giving your waist a gentle squeeze, “i’ll start listening to you as soon as we get to smoother ground, i promise.”

whenever the two of you walk together, yoongi either carries his board under one arm and holds your hand oR he skates alongside you while holding your hand

either way he’s holding your hand so you should be happy no matter what but today you decided that you wanted to be the one on the skateboard?? 

for some weird reason?? 

he’s pretty sure it’s the whole B- thing that’s making you lose your mind a little 

he obviously had doubts about your demand because the last time you were on his board you ended up with two skinned knees and two skinned palms and he doesn’t know if he has enough bandaids in his backpack to patch you up this time around

so he said that you could stand on the board while he slowly pulled you along next to him and you seemed to be happy with that option 

he has an arm wrapped around your waist securely while you have your arm hanging loosely around his neck

and as an added precaution he’s also holding onto your hand (that’s now slid up to grip onto his shoulder because of the little bump in the road just now) just to really make sure that you won’t go flying forwards or backwards and end up with a body full of broken bones 

“you never pay attention to me when i start talking about my assignments...” you push your bottom lip out in a dramatic little pout before leaning down to squish your cheek against the top of yoongi’s head 

you can’t help but giggle when he reaches up blindly for a second to swat you off of his head 

“sometimes you’ll get a B- on a paper, so what?” yoongi hums, “you win some, you lose some. plus, like you said - you have a chance to redeem yourself with the next assignment... so just do better on the next assignment!” 

“well, what if i get another B- on the next assignment?” you mutter, a shiver tingling up your spine at the thought of getting another B- on the next assignment

that’d be awful 

two B minuses in a row?!

you’d rather hurl yourself into the middle of a busy intersection

“then you get a B- on the next assignment!” yoongi shrugs and gives you another reassuring squeeze, “as long as you’re not flunking out of your class, i say it’s not a big loss. but you’re smart. i’m sure you and your five trillion brain cells can figure it out.”

“mm, i guess you’re right.” you sigh, smiling fondly at the fact that yoongi was definitely listening to you the entire time even though he said he wasn’t paying an ounce of attention to you at all

sweet boy :’)

“also, i think we should travel like this all the time!” you chirp, turning your head to look at all the losers around you who are walking with their own two legs and not gliding along on a skateboard like you are, “it’s pretty fun. i like not having to walk!”

“for the record, i only agreed to do this because your boobs are like, right there-” yoongi looks up at you with a boyish grin and you roll your eyes playfully before reaching over to pinch his nose, “-now gimme a kiss. promise it’ll make you feel better!”

“a kiss?” you scoff, “nice try. eyes on the road, mister!”

teeny tidbits library

[3dnygma]

“Our geek friend Damo has been interviewing some great guests for us in the lead-up to the Supanova conventions coming to Australia - Cory Michael Smith (the Riddler in Gotham) and Nolan North (everyone in every video game ever).“ - Nerdzilla Podcast Episode 93 on April 15th, 2017

Click here for the whole podcast - the interview, which is about five minutes long, starts at 45:16! Cory mainly talks about how he got into acting and how he did his research in order to portray Ed. However, he also mentions what he likes about his current stay in Australia and what he’s looking forward to doing there.

[habibialkaysani]

Tommy Merlyn (for the patronus ask thing)

already done here! but I’ll just c&p anyway:

tommy: probably that time he references in 1x08 when he says he was in laurel’s kitchen making her omelettes for breakfast because he stayed over the night before. he probably felt total bliss for once in his life, cooking his not-girlfriend breakfast and having her actually enjoy it too because he’s a decent cook. for me it’s such a visceral memory because he remembers the smell of the omelettes and the faint scent of laurel’s sweat and coffee as he enters her bedroom again bearing breakfast on a tray and he remembers laurel’s smile being bright enough to power the sun and just - that is probably his happiest memory.

send me a character and I’ll tell you what they’d think of to conjure a patronus

[hypocrisyofandrewdobson]

So good old Moviebob went on another Twitter rant and said 'Russians don't count as people'. https://twitter.com/the_moviebob/status/1670126255365144576

Is it possible to hate this clown more?

Okay, let’s take a look…

It’s odd he felt the need to insert the Russian angle into it, especially since it’s an alternate reality and whatnot, but yeah, that FilmRoberto for you.

But, if it helps you feel any better, just look at how few likes and reblogs he’s getting. Man really is reaching Dobson levels of irrelevancy.

[ancientandforevcr]

Happy birthday Nate!

Ayeeeeeeeeeeee everyone go wish @lordnegan​ a happy birthdaaaaaay!! I’ll love you forever! This is one of my bestest friendos in the entire universe and he deserves all the bday wishes!

Happy birthday, you nerdzilla! I hope it’s a good one despite everything going on! I love you more than I can say and I hope your day is filled with cookie dough and pizza pie. You better have some, and you better tell me exactly how delicious it was!

HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!

[anarchistettin]

Give some love to Nerdzilla’s excellent store if you or someone you love has a bizarre lovehate relationship with prednisone 😜

[nerdzillalives]

A well-timed message from the universe after a total sobbing mental collapse last night. I spent four hours yesterday filling out social security paperwork about what I can do now that I couldn’t do before and what my life is like day-to-day because of my conditions. That put my head on a loop of, “...it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” and, “What happens if I don’t get better,” and, “Why wouldn’t those fucking doctors just listen to me for all those months?!” You get the idea... So here’s the thing: I can keep swimming in all of that fear and anxiety or try to convince myself that shit IS going to be more than OK on the other side of all of this and that being a person who does all of the right things in the right way is going to pay off. I’d rather believe that making my health and wellness my full time job now, in the short term, will allow me to fulfill all kinds of dreams and make all kinds of awesome things happen in the long term... than to allow myself to believe that nothing is ever going to be ok again. But that doesn’t mean that I won’t have the occasional sobbing mental collapse. And thank goodness I have friends like my gal Cindil to talk me back from the mental ledge when I can’t do it for myself. True friends are a special kind of treasure. If you are having one of those breakdowns and need someone to talk to that gets it, reach out. We Spoonies must stick together. #nerdzilla #nerdherd #businesscouch #businesscasual #businesswoman #blogger #bloggersofinstagram #writersofinstagram #chronicpainwarrior #spinepainwarrior #degenerativediscdisease #spoonie #piriformissyndrome #rehab #health #skincare #beauty #muletown #muletownusa #columbiatn #muletowner #changeYourFingLife (at Muletown Rec)

[yes-i-would-like-to-be-stabbed]

High Scores and Arcades

Hey guys!

Part 4 is here!

Hope you enjoy it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucas decided that today was an amazing day to go to the arcade. All of his friends, and even his own girlfriend, Max, was busy today. So what better way to have fun than beat up some virtual baddies?

Lucas smiles to himself as he goes to one of his favorite games. He’s currently held the high score record for about 3 months now. 

Walking up to the machine, he was close enough to read the bright yellow letters that spelled ‘Q*Bert’.

Lucas loved how challenging this game was and he currently held the highest score of 421,981 points.

However, as he looked for his score he noticed that his ‘LUC’ is no longer number one but instead it's at number 2.

In the first slot, is ‘ROX’ with the score being 629,724 points.

To put it lightly, Lucas is pissed.

He plays and plays and plays. Until he almost runs out of money and he still didn’t even come close to beating “ROX”’s high-score.

He groans and hits his head on the main console of the game.

“Hey, kid you almost done?”

Lucas jumps and looks up.

A tall girl wearing a sleeveless ripped up Rolling Stones shirt, is staring at him.

Lucas just stays quiet and zones out at her appearance.

“Uh, earth to nerdzilla” She waves a hand in front of his face.

Which he blinks and replies, “Uh yeah”

He steps out of the way and the girl takes his place.

The girl begins playing and Lucas wonders to another game.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A half-hour passes and Lucas hears a semi loud “nice!”

He turns and sees the same girl from before as she fist bumps the air.

She walks away and walks past Lucas.

As she passes, he hers her mumble, “Man I can’t believe I beat my own high score.”

Lucas' eyes widen before he dashes over to the game and sees that not only is his score 3rd, but now “ROX” holds the first and second spot.

Amazed and a bit angry Lucas turns to find the girl.

But she seemed to disappear in the crowd.

He looks around the whole arcade before he spots her at the main counter, drinking a can of Coke.

He taps her on her shoulder, “Hey are you ‘ROX’ ?”

She turns to him right before she was taking a drink and cocks a brow up.

“Yeah, I am. Who’s asking?”

Lucas gives her a look, “Me. Lucas, as in ‘LUC’.”

The girl smirks before sitting her drink down, “Well no shit. Huh. So you’re him huh?”

She eyes Lucas up and down as he swallows nervously. He just realized how intimidating she was.

“Well kid, I’m surprised. I was expecting someone a bit older than you,” She clapped him on his shoulder.

Lucas gave her a weird look, but she only smiled.

“I can’t tell ya how long it took me to actually beat ya, kid.”

Lucas is a little shocked, “Really?”

She gives him a small smile and tells him about how she got a bit farther almost every day she played and told him how she developed a strategy.

Lucas listened attentively, “ Wow. You worked really hard on that, huh?”

She laughs, “I had to. I had to teach my friend, Butch, a lesson,” She shakes her head, “He would go on and on about how amazing he was at it. I finally had enough of his bragging, so I’d sneak here every day until I could easily pummel him and his score. Should’ve seen the look on his face when he was my initials as number 1 instead of his own.”

Lucas smiled and laughed, “I bet it was hilarious.”

She smiled back, “ Yeah it was.”

Lucas looked down and raised his eyes back at her. He was trying to work up the courage to ask her something.

She noticed his nervous behavior and frowned a bit, “Hey kid, you okay?”

Lucas was caught off guard by her question and look of concern on her face.

“Y-yeah, I’m good… I just….” He paused and swallowed thickly, he only hoped she wouldn’t laugh in his face.

She gave a reassuring smile and put her hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay little man. What were you saying?”

Lucas took a breathe and hurriedly asked, “Could you teach me your strategy?”

‘Oh boy, Lucas. Get ready for the laughter and embarrassment.’ He thought as he closed his eyes.

Instead, the girl smiled and stood up straight.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

Lucas opened his eyes shocked, before grinning.

“Really?!” Lucas cleared his throat, embarrassed, “I mean, uh, really?”

The girl’s grin only widened at his outburst. “Yep. One thing though…’

Lucas looked at her curiously, “Yeah?”

She grinned again, “Call me Roxanne.”

Lucas smiled, “Deal.”

And the pair made their way back deeper into the arcade.

[infamydire]

Characters from Pucker Up! 

Yeahhh this is my art! I’m actually really proud of these! :D