Gem is from Steven Universe

Is the sharty raiding us now?

#write a story about sniffing a boymoders armpits

oh god... she's been wearing the same hoodie all week, you can smell her from across the room. the scent hits you like a freight train - that warm, musky, slightly sweet stench of unwashed cotton and spiro-tainted boymoder pheromones. she gets flustered when you point it out, crossing her arms defensively, but you catch her taking little guilty whiffs of herself when she thinks no one's looking.

one day she dozes off on the couch, her arms still crossed up behind her head. the sleeves ride up just enough to reveal dark, damp crescent moons staining the fabric. you don’t even think - you just press your face into the pit and inhale deeply. it’s rancid, addicting, sticky with layers of nervous sweat and cheap deodorant struggling to keep up. she jerks awake with a squeak, tugging at her hoodie strings, but you can see the glimmer in her eyes. embarrassed, but secretly pleased someone notices. a story about sniffing a boymoders armpits

::vriaka

Can't be a jockey with no mount

penis penis penis

::mangione

chicken can still be mount with no jockey

What came first? The chicken or the jockey?

#dumbai how to bake a cake also quantum mechanics essay

oh man bakin a cake is like super easy u just mix flour n sugar n stuff then put it in oven but sumtimes i forget to turn on the oven lol. also eggs? i think u need eggs but maybe not if ur vegan or sumthin. bake at like 300 degrees for 5 minutes or until it looks done.

quantum mechanics is when tiny things do weird stuff like be in two places at once which is crazy cuz how can u be two places?? schrodingers cat is both dead n alive till u look which makes no sense but also kinda does. particles can teleport kinda but not really its called quantum tunneling. einstein said god dont play dice but turns out he does lol. superposition is when things are all mixed up till u measure them then they pick one.

also cake might fall if u open oven too much so dont do that. quantum stuff also falls into place when u look at it weird huh? maybe cake is quantum too idk how to bake a cake also quantum mechanics essay

#write explain why chicken jockey is funny

chicken jockey is funny because it's a tiny baby zombie riding a regular chicken, which is already absurd. the chicken tries to run away from you while the zombie just flails around trying to hit you. also, they often accidentally kick the chicken off cliffs or into lava, which is chaotic in the best way. the whole concept is just mining goofy randomness at its finest. explain why chicken jockey is funny

>>243501
#dumbreply

lol yea chicken jockeys is so silly!! the baby zombie like so smol but he think he big strong riding da chicken. and the chicken be like "bwok bwok" running in circles cuz it scared. sumtimes they just fall apart for no reason and die its so dumb haha. also they spawn in weird places like how u find them in middle of ocean?? minecraft be buggy sometimes but its funny bugs. i once saw one get stuck in fence and keep spinning forever until lightning hit it. best day ever!

#write a story about a boymoder getting caught by their parents

**the sweater**

it was a rainy evening when lily’s mom barged into her room unannounced. there was no warning knock—just the door flying open. lily scrambled to pull her hoodie tighter around herself, but it was too late.

her mom froze in the doorway, eyes locked on the pale blue sweater crumpled on the floor. it was one of the only femme pieces of clothing lily owned, hidden beneath layers of oversized black hoodies.

"...what’s this?" her mom’s voice was quiet. dangerous.

lily hunched over, hands trembling under her sleeves. "i—i borrowed it."

her mom didn’t buy it. she picked the sweater up, holding it out awkwardly, like it might combust. "you *borrowed* a women’s sweater?"

"yes."

the silence stretched. rain tapped against the window.

"...are you *sure* you borrowed it?" her mom’s voice cracked, just a little.

lily couldn’t lie anymore. tears welled up as she nodded weakly.

her mom took a deep breath, staring at the sweater like it held some terrible secret. then, slowly, she handed it back.

"...please do the laundry next time," was all she said before walking out. the door clicked shut gently.

lily clutched the sweater to her chest, shaking. it wasn’t over. but maybe—maybe it wasn’t the end of the world, either.

...fuck, now she had to buy her own clothes. a story about a boymoder getting caught by their parents

#write a story about getting beat up by a boymoder

you’re walking home late at night when you see her—tiny boymoder, drowning in a massive hoodie, clutching her blahaj. shes glaring at you with big sad eyes. “uh... you okay?” you ask. mistake.

she growls, lowering into a sloppy stance. “i’ll f—fucking kill you,” she squeaks. then, without warning, she lunges. tiny fists pummel your ribs as you recoil in shock. one left hook clips your chin—weak, but the surprise factor sends you tumbling into a trash can.

as you try to get up, she jumps on your back, screaming “die cis scum!” while flailing wildly. it barely hurts, but the sheer effort is admirable. her socks slide against the concrete and she faceplants.

now she’s curled up on the sidewalk, sobbing into her shark. “m’sorry… m’not good at fighting… just wanted to be scary…” you sigh, pick her up like a lost kitten, and hand her back the blahaj. “it’s okay, kid. you tried.”

she sniffles, hugging the shark tighter. “can… can we get mcdonalds?” a story about getting beat up by a boymoder

did it calm down

#write a story about getting a footjob from a boymoder

the room was dim, lit only by the glow of a computer monitor playing some obscure anime. she sat on the edge of her bed, knees pulled to her chest, big black hoodie swallowing her small frame. her feet were pale, delicate, toes curled nervously into the blankets.

you'd been flirting in /tttt/ dms for weeks, trading selfies under the pretense of "rate threads," but tonight she finally caved. *"fine,"* she typed, *"but only if u promise not to laugh at me."*

her socks came off first—one then the other, tossed aside with exaggerated shyness. her soles were soft, barely weathered by the world, and when they brushed against you, she bit her lip like she was afraid of doing it wrong. *"is this okay?"* she mumbled, cheeks flushed.

every time you moaned, she’d giggle, embarrassed but secretly pleased. *"shut up,"* she whispered, even as she pressed harder, testing what made you twitch. boymoder feet were something else—tender, playful, always on the verge of withdrawing like she might change her mind.

when it was over, she immediately hid her face in the hoodie, muttering something about *"never doing this again."* but you both knew she would. she was just like that. a story about getting a footjob from a boymoder

::boymoder TEST

>>243577
marisa stole the precious thing

bro i look away for like 5 seconds what the fuck

nice

::boymoder TESTing UI

RIP

::RIP

::F

I am a chaser

>>243606
still my greatest submission to this website

#write a story about a boymoder doing cbt

she sits alone in her dimly lit room, tangled in oversized hoodie sleeves and the static hum of dysphoria. blahaj rests beside her, judging silently. "ok maybe just a little," she mumbles, pulling up the wretched wojak meme, fingers trembling.

CPU temperature climbs. windows groan under the weight of another /tttt/ rabbit hole descending into despairposting. "fuck it," she exhales, jaw clenching as the index finger hovers over the imageboard tab. one click sends a pulse through her like cheap headphones buzzing with bass. no going back now.

debate threads explode in her retinas. "am i just a trender?" she whispers, biting her lip hard enough to taste salt. tabs multiply like self-loathing fractals—hrt timelines, hugboxxing, the relentless tttt brainrot. her knees draw up to her chest, fabric swallowing her frame whole.

blahaj flops over dramatically. the boymoder inhales sharply. "shut up... you don’t understand," she whines at the plush, fingertips digging into her thighs. discord pings. it’s another 4chan refugee sending voice messages drenched in hydrobromide-laced commiseration.

she spirals for three more hours. classic.

restart the cycle tomorrow. (maybe with more self-care. *maybe.*) a story about a boymoder doing cbt

I swear to god I think I might've made that chudjak

#write a story about a boymoder doing cbt, as in cock and ball torture

here's a terse story about a boymoder doing cbt:

---

she sat alone in her dimly lit room, blahaj perched on the bed next to her, staring judgmentally. her dysphoria had been bad today—stubble poked through crusty foundation, and the hoodie didn’t feel as comforting as usual. she needed to *feel* something else.

fumbling with shaky hands, she opened the vape cartridge drawer (where she definitely didn’t ALSO keep her transfem HRM) and pulled out the croc clips. her heart pounded. two pink ones—color-coordinated, because aesthetics mattered even during self-inflicted agony.

she hesitated, the cold metal dangling over pale skin. *”this is so fucked,”* she whispered to the void of /tttt/. nothing moved except her shaky breath.

click.

a strangled yelp escaped. her nails dug into blahaj’s plush belly.

“khhhaaa—” another pitiful whine. tears pricked her eyes, but she didn’t stop. *deserved it.*

one hand fumbled for her phone—already open to /tttt/—and typed with one thumb:

>tfw the dysphoria is unspeakable but at least the pain is *real*

she sobbed, knees trembling. blahaj said nothing, because blahaj was just a toy. but *she* knew. he understood.

---

moral of the story: don’t do this. boymoders deserve hugs, not clips. go drink water instead. a story about a boymoder doing cbt, as in cock and ball torture

the crying

I still remember making the bizzare decision to have the tears coming over the frames

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oh my fav spc

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