Considering the deaths the average Dwarf in my last fortress suffered. I ain’t touching DF with a ten-foot pole.
A deadly dust forgotton beast broke into the fort through a forgotten cavern access. My military quickly killed it; but before they could step into the Dwarven Bath to rinse off the dust 2/3rds of my fortress was dying of a total body necrotic rot.
As a filthy Texan. I approve this.
Howdy is fun. It’s funny. Foreigners like hearing it. What’s not to love?
Partner’
Boy if that isn’t my mother to a T.
18, my soon-to-be-first-girlfriend was hosting a party.
I still have a fondness for coconut rum and sprite and big naturals.
Seems like it is a protest against the dumb-ass anti-trans shit the people in power in this state are pulling.
I brought an adventurer into an established world. A Human Herbalist Swordsman. After taking a few weeks to get my bearings I made a beeline towards my newest fortress to read the slabs and maybe steal some equipment.
I stumbled upon a Goblin nest, a weak goblin wielding a silver spear got a lucky hit on my exhausted Swordsman, breaking his foot, before slowly beating him to death with the spear.
Learned two things. Watch your fatigue. Silver is an awful material for slashing and piercing weapons.
Did anyone see the English language patch notes?
What was the thought process? Nightmares.
It started as a prank, but now fascists unironically use the ok sign.
It’s a dog whistle. They use something innocent to signal to others in their ingroup, and call people stupid when they call them out on it.
If they take care of it, or have the face for it. Sure. Not my type, but goodf’them.
If they just accidentally have a terrible beard… gross
The tattoo is excellent, but to permanently have it on your skin is a level of irony poisoning I aspire to have one day.
An upside of apocalyptic environmental collapse due by the end of the century is The Elders™ trying to explain their very specific joke tattoos to the younglings.
I hope they enjoy the extra money they make off me buying Netflix for a single month every other year, when they use to get me subscribed all the time.
Seems like a stable business decision that’s absolutely not the first sign of a bubble bursting.
For a more bitter sweet memory. I love cinnamon shnappes. For some reason my brain really latched onto the time I got Dead Rising 2 for super cheap on the Xbox 360.
My deeply unpleasant ex was on an overnight trip with her friends and I was at peace. Just alone with my cat, nursing on a glass of cinnamon shnappes and sprite, eating some pizza and listening to early youtube video essays.
I was in the peak of my depression, and being around her made it worse. We loved each other and didn’t want to call it quits, but it desperately needed to happen.
Sitting there alone, in that moment of peace. It reminded me that there are still simple joys in life.
Food riot/starvation/exposure/myself brought on by climate collapse.
Otherwise, odds are with my family, it’ll be my heart will go out or diabetes. Can’t rule out car accident though.
NiGHTS into Dreams and Billy Hatcher will always hold a special place in my heart.
It’s a bummer that Sega doesn’t really do cartoony mascot-y games anymore outside of Sonic.
Like they have such a huge library of visually distinct characters just rotting away, only coming out every decade or so for a kart racing game or random cameo.
God I hope so, but I have a feeling it’s going to be another monster; just without the spectre of death looming over them like the rainbow after a storm.
Cis Dude, Queer, Texas, Mid-30s
If I’m talking between other men about a lady’s breasts, I’ll use tits or boobs, my best friend has an injoke where we use a flat “breasts” (:55)
If I’m in mixed company, boobs or breasts.
With women, especially older women, I’ll use breasts or bosom if I’m feeling silly.
Younger women (if they bring up the subject) I’ll sometimes do a idiot meathead word for them as a joke. “My poor ex had a bad back from her… her… what’s the good word for bazongas again?”
For my own man-tiddies, I use bosoms or Robertsons. Men’s bodies are inheritedly funny to me, so I don’t use serious words to describe the less flattering details on me.