#with a dose of sarcasm

[aprofessionaln00b]

Apparently the people raised such a stint about it + the game not doing that well money wise made them put in Reynauld. Being a dlc ofc but hey he's here!

so you're telling me the one constant of darkest dungeon is you start out with dismas and reynauld

and if you survive the darkest dungeon with dismas and reynauld you get an achievement called "on the old road we found redemption"

and the devs are aware of the fandom and how much they love dismas and reynauld and are aware of reymas

but reynaulds not in the new game okay

[bamsara]

Still think it's funny that in 2020 the doctors went "there is something so incredibly wrong with this bitch. Don't do a trial period put them on the highest dose of Adderall legally possible" and then I died

[babsaros]

they talk about testosterone gel like it’s the fentanyl of hrt

[valkyurii]

what was miquella thinking? bro can't fit in the haligtree

[the-starlight-papers]

I love all the Nintendo switch 2 game leaks that are literally just something anyone with basic pattern recognition could predict.

There’s gonna be a new Mario Kart? REALLY??? It’s gonna be called Mario Kart 9??? Woah! I thought it was going to be called Mario Kart 5.

There’s going to be a new 3D Mario game? Like pretty much every other Nintendo home console? Dang. Couldn’t have predicted that.

Next you’re going to tell me that there’s going to be a Pokémon game and a mainline Zelda game that will release for it a within a few years of launch! Or that there will be a new Smash game for it! Who could have guessed!

[scarefox]

from the "A Song Called Hate" documentary

[chaospandemoniumandcuddles]

Fili: I just looked at it and it cut my finger!

Dis: Just looked at what?

Fili: At that! I just looked at it!

Dis: *following his finger* Is ‘that’ the cheese grater? The cheese grater half-hidden behind the curtain on the high windowsill behind your uncle’s desk?

Fili: Why did you put it there?

Dis: … I really don’t know.

Fili: I just looked at it.

[tgmsunmontue]

ALT TEXT: What (and I can't stress this enough) the fuck?

Slider and Goose when Iceman snaps his teeth at Maverick.

Daggers upon seeing Hangman and Rooster interact at the Hard Deck.

Rooster and Maverick when the 5th Gen plane just does mid-air acrobatics to dodge a missile.

TG/TG:M fandom/s when someone says they can't see the homoeroticism present...

[orthosispsychosis]

i think every time i think 'i was more functional and capable of adls with my ex due to their threats and demands, i should find another source of threats' i need to remember i also allowed myself unrestricted full time access to drugs in order to keep up with their threats and demands, and try just skipping straight to the drugs.

[conhex]

ok so switched medications and now im less filled with hatred (^^)

[strangedisciple]

ok maybe its time to do some work now (has been avoiding work all day and now my medication has worn off so i probably wont be able to concentrate on it)

[curfewplugs]

It’s a Kinks’ Face to Face kinda morning

[assymetricalandproud]

hey have you considered starting a lil piece of the task and doing the rest later?

(there is a 50% chance you’ll just finish the thing and if you dont its partially done for future you)

[odycal-pbarnes]

Oldest is watching the Mitchell's and the machines and she just yelled out 'oh god it's the nightmare toy from the olden days!'

The toy in question? a fucking furby, which in all fairness, same; but gotdamn kid's got me feeling geriatric over here 😂

[lvminisciel]

i made a carrd!!!

[sixeyesonathiel]

finally birthing male manipulator satoru with girl failure reader wwww

gojo satoru was used to getting what he wanted.

and he wanted you.

not in some deep, profound way—god, no. not at first. it started as a game. a challenge. a passing amusement that piqued his interest one random thursday morning when you stammered out an apology after bumping into his desk, cheeks flushed, eyes wide. he watched you trip over your own words, clutch your pen like a lifeline, and tuck your legs up onto the chair like you could shrink out of existence if you tried hard enough.

prime target. textbook girlfailure behavior. he could spot it from a mile away.

this was supposed to be easy.

he’d start small. nothing too intense. just a little white knight routine—softboy edition. give you just enough attention to get you spinning. love-bomb in casual doses. trauma-dump-lite over late-night fries. maybe let his voice go quiet and vulnerable one evening and say, “you remind me of someone i cared about.” glance away, bite his lip, look just the right amount of broken. play the victim just enough to make you feel like you had to fix him.

he’d make you think he saw you. that he understood you.

except you, with your messy hair and oversized hoodie sleeves pulled over twitchy fingers, dodged every single one of his perfectly curated attempts like your avoidant attachment style was running military-grade defense protocols.

“you okay, sweetheart?” he asked one afternoon, leaning a little too close to your desk, silver hair slightly tousled, reading glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, his voice low and silky. lips curved into a smile that’d made stronger girls fold. “you looked a little sad today. i worry about you sometimes.”

you blinked up at him, lashes fluttering like you couldn’t believe he was talking to you. your throat worked around a half-swallowed gulp. then your face shifted. shutters slammed down. you forced a grin, lopsided and sharp around the edges.

“yeah, i’m just like this. it’s seasonal depression, but, y’know… year-round. i’m fine.”

you said it so matter-of-factly. like he was asking about the weather.

satoru froze, his hand briefly twitching near his glasses as he pushed them up slowly, searching for meaning in a world that had suddenly gone sideways.

what the actual hell.

okay. maybe you needed more.

he started sitting next to you in class. always coincidentally. elbows brushing, knees knocking. his thigh warm where it grazed yours. he sent you memes at 1:37 a.m. with captions like “us fr?” and “ur literally me,” despite you barely replying to half of them. he offered his jacket when the AC kicked on and watched the way you hesitated, blushed, and then said, “i run on spite, not warmth.”

and then, the pièce de résistance:

“i just feel like… you’re different,” he said one evening outside the library. the campus was quiet, sky the kind of inky navy that made everything feel more cinematic. he stood with hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket, a calculated slouch, glasses slightly askew, hair falling across his forehead. his voice dipped low, coaxing. “everyone else is so fake. but you? you’re real. you’ve got this… broken, beautiful thing going on.”

you tilted your head. stared. then squinted at him like he was a suspiciously priced antique. “did you get that line off tiktok?”

he flinched.

bro.

he ran a hand through his hair. a slow, dramatic drag of fingers. girls walking by giggled. he didn’t look up. he was malfunctioning.

he was trying. actually trying. not just running a script. not just playing games. he was pulling every page from the softboy manipulator playbook and rewriting it with style. the gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss starter pack, optimized for 2025.

and still. you met his carefully calculated charm with self-deprecating jokes, sarcasm, and the kind of deadpan delivery that made him question if he was losing it.

“you should save that line for someone without warranty issues,” you said, staring at him with a crooked little smile. “i come pre-broken.”

he left that encounter walking in slow motion, hoodie sleeves dragged over his hands, mouth set in a pout. if a sad indie movie montage started playing around him, he wouldn’t have questioned it.

here’s the thing, though: you liked him.

it was obvious.

he saw it in the way your gaze flickered to his mouth when he talked. the way your fingers curled tight around your notebook when he leaned in too close. the way your breath hitched just slightly when he used your name in a sentence. you were down bad.

but you were also your own worst enemy.

years of romantic misfires and silent yearning had turned you into a master of avoidance. you would rather make a joke about your emotional damage than let someone touch your heart. rather ghost your feelings than face them.

and it was frying his entire nervous system.

one night, 2:14 a.m., satoru lay on his bed staring at your latest post: a blurry picture of your cat with the caption “me.” it had two likes.

he stared at it longer than any man should. took a screenshot. set it as his lock screen for five minutes. unironically laughed.

then groaned and stuffed his face into his pillow.

“no,” he muttered. “no. she’s the one who canceled our group study session with ‘sorry i’m busy disappointing my ancestors.’”

and yet.

he kept thinking about the way your voice dropped to a whisper when you didn’t think anyone was listening. the way you fiddled with your sleeves when you were nervous. how you always sat at the edge of a group like you weren’t sure you belonged there.

you never clung to him. never fed into his savior complex. never let him be the one who "fixed" you.

and for some reason, that made him want to try harder.

not because it was a game anymore. because… well. because you were infuriating. weird. unpredictable. not like the others. god, maybe you were even kind of funny.

whatever. it wasn’t that deep.

gojo satoru: male manipulator dodged by the one girl who wanted him back… just enough to sabotage it.

and now he’s the one thinking way too hard about someone who won’t even sit next to him two days in a row.

he doesn’t like you.

he just… finds you interesting.

that’s all.

shut up.