Steve Rogers gets himself an Instagram and follows Dwayne Johnson, as one does.
The Rock posts one of his giant breakfast pictures, as he is wont to do.
Steve, lil shit that he is, responds with HIS enormous breakfast, insinuating that perhaps Dwayne Johnson’s breakfast isn’t actually all that much food and if he ate THAT he’d be hungry in, like, an hour.
It goes on like that, for WEEKS, good-natured teasing about how much food they eat spilling over into Twitter and callouts during interviews.
Until they agree to have breakfast together, and the last post about it is just a picture of the two of them, lying flat on the Rock’s living room floor with his dog sniffing at Steve’s head, both of them with big hands splayed over their bellies like they can’t possibly fit any more.
Neither will say who actually can eat more – every time they’re asked, they start in on how awesome the other is and how much respect they have for each other and how glad they are that they got to become friends.
This is everything I have ever wanted.
The first video on the Rock’s instagram gets posted at 4:15 AM – this is not uncommon, nor is the fact that he’s walking around his brightly-lit Iron Paradise. It’s more the bouncing that’s unusual.
“You know what the BEST THING about being buddies with CAPTAIN AMERICA is? Yesterday I got to meet the motherfucking Falcon. That’s right, SAM WILSON was here, was right here! I asked him what it was like to fly, and he grinned at me and then we did like, an hour and a half of planks and v-sits and he had me hanging from the TRX to hold planks and I swear I was shaking halfway through and he just laughed and said, ‘now imagine you have a couple rockets strapped to your ass, now you flyin.’ and I’m tellin’ you, THAT MAN is a fucking ROCK, it was amazing.”
The camera swings around to the barbell setups before coming back to Dwayne’s face. “He also told me that Steve Rogers knows almost nothing about weightlifting and Steve agreed he’s got no idea where his PR might be, so today is gonna be LEG DAY. My entire torso is fuckin’ killing me, but this is gonna be AWESOME. Stay tuned, y’all.”
The second video of the day comes in the afternoon; Dwayne looks exhausted but Steve Rogers looks plenty fresh and also a combination of sheepish and smug.
Dwayne opens with a deadpan, “Leg day.”
“I learned so much!” Steve is enthusiastic, almost bouncy. “This guy is a great teacher.”
“He also,” and the video pans around to the barbell setups seen earlier in the day, “broke my motherfucking gym.”
The thick barbell in the middle of the floor is wickedly bent, standing on its own in an inverted V. All of the big metal plates are scattered around the floor instead of on the racks, and several dumbbells are also twisted into odd shapes. One of the biggest weight plates is buried high in the far wall, only about half of it sticking out, like a giant ninja had thrown a shuriken.
“Don’t worry, Dwayne, we’ll figure out my deadlift PR eventually,” Steve’s voice comes from behind the camera.
“Man, fuck you,” Dwayne can be heard before the video cuts out.
The weight plate stays up in the brick wall; Dwayne doesn’t actually tell anyone that he’d asked if Steve could do that so he’d have a souvenir.
My favorite thing about Dungeons & Dragons is how fucking quickly people become ride-or-die bitches with each other
no lie i had a campaign where I tried playing a really chaotic neutral “leave me alone” rouge and ended up attached at the hip to our monk who couldn’t roll higher than a natural 10 to literally save his life bc in our first encounter he called my character “a nice lass” and that was all it took
“what’s new pussycat” is playing in the starbucks right now im yellin g
tHE BARISTA IS SMIRKING OKAY THIS WAS 100% INTENTIONAL
there’s a table of girls laughing and singing along holy shit they knOW
the baristas are feigning innocence i canno t believe this im living a real life salt n pepper diner experience right now
i realize i put a lot of information in the tags of the first post so let me reiterate: it was definitely playing on a loop. it looped at least 4 times before the girls at the table caught on and started teasing the baristas about it
update: they’re now playing all-star by smash mouth, this starbucks is run by a bunch of meme loving fucks
caesar a lot of people think caesar was hot and while he’s probably one hell of a power bottom (every woman’s husband and every man’s wife as the romans said), he also apparently was really weirdly obsessed with removing all of his body hair?? i mean clearly he got around so he was probably bangable but i don’t know how i feel about this. VI/X isn’t being bald on top of your head enough for you julius
mark antony do i even need to talk about mark antony? he’s ancient rome’s greatest slut and proud of it, you know he’s bangable. just don’t marry him because you never know when he’ll end up divorcing you and becoming an enemy of the state so he can hang out with cleopatra. X/X slut machine
brutus honestly historical brutus was kind of a turd and his pillow talk is probably really depressing because he feels all this pressure to be like his king-banishin’ monarchy-smashin’ republic-foundin’ super-ancestor. like ‘waaaah i gotta go kill caesar because blah blah republic’ the republic was failing anyway who cares can we talk about something other than your inferiority complex. II/X extorting provinces isn’t sexy, brutus
pompey the great i guess pompey might have been sexy at one point in his youth but every time i think of him i can’t help but laugh at this stupid fake alexander the great hair and that doesn’t really make him very bangable in my eyes. IV/X please stop with the weird alexander fanboy thing
crassus let’s be real, crassus probably only has sex in the missionary position and almost definitely comes first. he’s got all that money but is it worth it??? III/X probably still worth the money though
clodius pulcher his name literally means clodius hot boi so like, there’s not even an argument there, you know this guy is smokin. the only problem is that he was a TREMENDOUS dumbass half of the time and loved to pull shit like sneaking into women-only festivals like an idiot so you just have to watch out for his nonsense. IX/X bang him and leave before he does something sacrilegious and gets you condemned to tartarus
cicero alright, now i know some of you are reading this and immediately thinking “sarah thoodleoo, please tell me you’re not going to say cicero is bangable because that is one step too far even for you,” but i need you to hear me out, okay? first of all, cicero is an orator so you know he’s good with his tongue. second, he was named a pater patriae, so you know he’s daddy material. maybe he’s not the best bang in the late republic, but he’s not the worst either. V/X i’m sorry if i made you unwillingly think of cicero as a daddy but in fairness this isn’t the first time i’ve said that so i don’t know what you expected
cato the younger like having sexy with crassus but with none of the money and all of the extra discomfort of listening to him rant about the good ol days while you’re trying to sleep and not think about how dissatisfied you are. -I/X stoic more like stoi-ick
HE GRABS THE CUP BUT THEN HE DROPS THE PEN 0.0003 SECONDS LATER
AND HE LOOKS UP AT THE CEILING INSTEAD OF AT THE GROUND WHEN HE CAN’T FIND THEM
I CAN’T STOP LAUGHING HE JUST DROPS IT
IT’S NOT FUNNY IT’S VERY LOGICAL THAT HE WOULD HAVE ADJUSTED TO LIVING LIFE WHILE HE WAS IN SPACE BECAUSE IT’S DIFFERENT FROM EARTH BUT I CAN’T FUCKING BREATHE
*THUNK*
YES IT’S BACK ON MY DASH THIS IS MY FAVORITE VIDEO
I could watch this video for hours and it would still be funny
About twelve years ago, a man died in high orbit over Tau Ceti V.
His name was Drake McDougal, and aside from a few snapshots and vague anecdotes from his drinking buddies, that’s probably all we’ll ever know about him. Another colony-born man with little records and little documentation, working whatever asteroid field the Dracs deigned to allow them. Every now and then a Drac gunship would strut on through the system, Pax Draconia and all that. But that was it.
One fine day, one of those gunships had a misjump. A bad one. It arrived only ninety clicks above atmo, with all its impellers blown out by the gravatic feedback of Tau Ceti V’s gravity well. The Dracs scraped enough power together for a good system-wide broadbeam and were already beginning the Death Chant when they hit atmo.
People laughed at the recording of sixty Dracs going from mysterious chanting to “’what-the-fuck’ing” for years after they forgot the name Drake McDougal. The deafening “CLANG” and split second of stunned silence afterwards never failed to entertain. Drake had performed a hasty re-entry seconds after the gunship and partially slagged his heatshield diving after it. Experts later calculated he suffered 11Gs when he leaned on the retro to match velocities with the Dracs long enough to engage the mag-grapples on his little mining tug.
Even the massively overpowered drive of a tug has its limits, and Drake’s little ship hit hers about one and a half minutes later. Pushed too far, the tug’s fusion plant lost containment just as he finished slingshotting the gunship into low orbit. (It was unharmed, of course; the Drac opinion of fusion power best translated as “quaint,” kind of how we view butter churns.)
It was on the local news within hours, on newsnets across human space within days. It was discussed, memorialized, marveled upon, chewed over by daytime talk-show hosts, and I think somebody even bought a plaque or some shit like that. Then there was a freighter accident, and a mass-shooting on Orbital 5, and of course, the first Vandal attacks in the periphery.
The galaxy moved on.
Twelve years is a long time, especially during war, so twelve years later, as the Vandal’s main fleet was jumping in near Jupiter and we were strapping into the crash couches of what wee enthusiastically called “warships,” I guaran-fucking-tee you not one man in the entire Defense Force could remember who Drake McDougal was.
Well, the Dracs sure as hell did.
Dracs do not fuck around. Dozens of two-kilometer long Drac supercaps jumped in barely 90K klicks away, and then we just stood around staring at our displays like the slack-jawed apes we were as we watched what a real can of galactic whoop-ass looked like. You could actually see the atmosphere of Jupiter roil occasionally when a Vandal ship happened to cross between it and the Drac fleet. There’s still lightning storms on Jupiter now, something about residual heavy ions and massive static charges or something.
Fifty-eight hours later, with every Vandal ship reduced to slagged debris and nine wounded Drac ships spinning about as they vented atmosphere, they started with the broad-band chanting again. And then the communiqué that confused the hell out of us all.
“Do you hold out debt fulfilled?”
After the sixth or seventh comms officer told them “we don’t know what the hell you’re talking about” as politely as possible, the Drac fleet commander got on the horn and asked to speak to a human Admiral in roughly the same tone as a telemarketer telling a kid to give the phone to Daddy. When the Admiral didn’t know either, the Drac went silent for a minute, and when he came back on his translator was using much smaller words, and talking slower.
“Is our blood debt to Drake McDougal’s clan now satisfied?”
The Admiral said “Who?”
What the Drac commander said next would’ve caused a major diplomatic incident had he remembered to revert to the more complex translation protocols. He thought the Admiral must be an idiot, a coward, or both. Eventually, the diplomats were called out, and we were asked why the human race has largely forgotten the sacrifice of Drake McDougal.
Humans, we explained, sacrifice themselves all the time.
We trotted out every news clip from the space-wide Nets from the last twelve years. Some freighter cook that fell on a grenade during a pirate raid on Outreach. A ship engineer who locked himself into the reactor room and kept containment until the crew evacuated. Firefighter who died shielding a child from falling debris with his body, during an earthquake. Stuff like that.
That Dracs were utterly stunned. Their diplomats wandered out of the conference room in a daze. We’d just told them that the rarest, most selfless and honorable of acts - acts that incurred generations-long blood-debts and moved entire fleets - was so routine for our species that they were bumped off the news by the latest celebrity scandal.
Everything changed for humanity after that. And it was all thanks to a single tug pilot who taught the galaxy what truly defines Man.
Tony couldn’t seep. Sometimes he managed a few hours if he was tired enough, so usually he went to the gym and worked out until he was exhausted. Tonight, though, he found the gym already occupied: Barnes, with his hair tied up, working steadily at the heavy bag. Normally Tony would make an awkward comment and leave him to it, but instead he just heads for the opposite side of the gym. After setting up at one of the far treadmills, Tony worked his way to a easy run. Barnes was laying his fists rhythmically into the bag, and the quiet thumping was sort of strangely soothing. Between the running and the thumping, Tony slipped into a near-trancelike state.
And then Barnes let out an ungodly howl, drew back his left fist, and slammed it straight through the heavy bag with a roar of, “DIE A THOUSAND BURNING DEATHS!”
Tony fell off the treadmill, scrambled to his feet, and booked it to the elevator.
kingofmemes posted:
holy shit you guys there was a spider on my punching bag !!! thanks to my many years of combat experience & martial arts training things are okay now
![space-australians:
“ the-real-seebs:
“ madddscience:
“ An interesting sci-fi short story from 4chan.
[Imgur]
”
That is some fine writing.
”
The Imgur link is broken so:
[Series of posts on 09/16/11]
About twelve years ago, a man died in high orbit...](http://68.media.tumblr.com/c926250ea0fa5af724048f1813ed7dc2/tumblr_nhetbcEijo1tcuhpfo1_500.jpg)
