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@diagnosedeeznuts
I’m Brian Thomas.
Yeah, that Brian Thomas. Unless you were expecting someone cooler—then I’m just his understudy ;)
If you’ve ended up here, you’re probably bored, lost, or avoiding something important.
I get it. I’ve done all three. Usually at once.
Ask something if you want.
I’ll probably answer. Or I’ll forget I saw it and remember three days later in the middle of folding laundry.
Either way, welcome. I’m glad you’re here!
Hope you find something good here.
Thoughts on Runa?
Runa? Oh man. Never actually met them, but everything I’ve heard is like… yeah, they’re weird. Like capital-W weird.
Not in a bad way! Just—y’know. Little off. Kinda quiet in the way that makes people nervous, like they’re listening even when they’re not in the room. Creepy? Yeah. But kinda cool too!!
I respect the vibe!
What do you consider romantic then?
Nothing I can say here without ruining my carefully maintained reputation of not giving a shit.
Anything even close to romantic and suddenly I’m a cornball with feelings. Can’t have that.
OKAY OKAY so he won’t say it himself because he’s gotta keep up the whole “emotionally indifferent grump” routine but I live with him and I KNOW the truth. Tim doesn’t think anything is romantic unless it’s genuine.
Like not an ounce of performative effort allowed. If he so much as senses you’re doing it for a “moment” or to be impressive or whatever, he’ll short-circuit and just go “ew” and walk away.
He doesn’t want flowers, unless they’re the specific ones he mentioned once in passing like a year ago. He doesn’t want gifts, unless I say it’s “not a gift, just a thing I saw and thought of you.” He’s not into PDA but if I don’t kiss him goodbye he’ll pretend he didn’t notice and then bring it up six hours later like, “forgot something this morning, didn’t you?”
he doesn’t like grand gestures. he likes consistency. he likes when i know how he takes his coffee, or when i grab his hoodie off the chair before we go out because i know he’ll pretend he’s not cold even when he is. he likes when i sit next to him without making a thing out of it. he likes when i get it without him having to say anything.
but yeah. sure. nothing’s romantic.
definitely not the way he leans into me when he’s tired. or how he always waits for me to brush my teeth so we can go to bed at the same time. or how he definitely doesn’t get mopey when i don’t kiss him in the morning.
I’m ignoring this entire thing on principle.
yeah suuure, ignore it all you want, Sunshine. you’re so tough. total menace. real stone-cold killer vibes. absolutely terrifying. definitely not the same guy who almost cried the other day when I raised my voice by accident and then apologized to me because you thought you made me upset. nope. different Tim entirely.
What do you consider romantic then?
Nothing I can say here without ruining my carefully maintained reputation of not giving a shit.
Anything even close to romantic and suddenly I’m a cornball with feelings. Can’t have that.
OKAY OKAY so he won’t say it himself because he’s gotta keep up the whole “emotionally indifferent grump” routine but I live with him and I KNOW the truth. Tim doesn’t think anything is romantic unless it’s genuine.
Like not an ounce of performative effort allowed. If he so much as senses you’re doing it for a “moment” or to be impressive or whatever, he’ll short-circuit and just go “ew” and walk away.
He doesn’t want flowers, unless they’re the specific ones he mentioned once in passing like a year ago. He doesn’t want gifts, unless I say it’s “not a gift, just a thing I saw and thought of you.” He’s not into PDA but if I don’t kiss him goodbye he’ll pretend he didn’t notice and then bring it up six hours later like, “forgot something this morning, didn’t you?”
he doesn’t like grand gestures. he likes consistency. he likes when i know how he takes his coffee, or when i grab his hoodie off the chair before we go out because i know he’ll pretend he’s not cold even when he is. he likes when i sit next to him without making a thing out of it. he likes when i get it without him having to say anything.
but yeah. sure. nothing’s romantic.
definitely not the way he leans into me when he’s tired. or how he always waits for me to brush my teeth so we can go to bed at the same time. or how he definitely doesn’t get mopey when i don’t kiss him in the morning.
What if we, I don't know, kiss as a joke? 😏
a joke with tongue?? absolutely.
haha jk
…..unless 😏
you should flirt with alex and talk about taking him out for burger king teehee
Burger King???
nah. he’d leave you on read. block your number. call your mom and tell her to raise her standards.
McDonald’s is the only language Alex speaks fluently. respect it.
The others hate me and want me to die alone in a ditch so, here I am to give myself self-love, so hey handsome how are you?
(Gotta love the multiverse and breaking the laws of nature)
ohhh HEY sexy 😏 fancy seein you here. How you doin’?
you’re me. you’re literally me. and yet somehow you’re the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on. like if I wasn’t already in love with myself this would be a very confusing situation.
What do you think of The Brians
Brian #1 is a WHORE. And not in the fun, flirty, teehee way. I mean in the biblical, cities-will-fall, angels-weeping, slut-for-sport kind of way.
Brian #2?
I am having the most emotionally-charged, spiritually-lesbian, soul-bonded sapphic lezzed up sex of my entire existence with him.
Hope that clears things up!!
i love you too. spiritually-lesbian-style.
thank you for lezzing up my entire nervous system.
thank you for spiritually scissoring my brainstem.
solid 11/10. lezzed me up real bad. will never emotionally recover.
Let’s go spiritual nervous system lesbians.
They hate me 🤧
NO, we love you <3 its okay to embrace the ways of the hoe, i support hoe rights AND wrongs
That.. that does not make it any better other than the we love you part.
no no no listen—this is LIBERATION. this is PEAK feminism. hoes are heroes. sluts are soldiers. i support hoe rights and hoe wrongs because freedom means choosing to be a little whore in broad daylight and knowing god can’t stop you.
brian you’re not being judged, you’re being CELEBRATED. i love hoes. i aspire to hoe. we love you <3 now take your pants off and own your truth.
we are LIFTIN you up. we are CROWNING you. we are handing you a lil glittery sash that says “WORLD’S MOST SLUTTED OUT.” this is sisterhood. this is community. this is hoe pride.
Like you’re telling me I can be a little slut in daylight and it’s an act of rebellion? That’s art. That’s politics. That’s a movement.
So yes. Take your pants off. Not for shame—for glory.
For feminism. For freedom. For the hoes.
What do you think of The Brians
Brian #1 is a WHORE. And not in the fun, flirty, teehee way. I mean in the biblical, cities-will-fall, angels-weeping, slut-for-sport kind of way.
Brian #2?
I am having the most emotionally-charged, spiritually-lesbian, soul-bonded sapphic lezzed up sex of my entire existence with him.
Hope that clears things up!!
i love you too. spiritually-lesbian-style.
thank you for lezzing up my entire nervous system.
Don't believe a word the anons say, I didn't say anything.
It’s okay, Brian. Not everyone can handle my cuisine, only the strongest and most evilest souls from the pits of Hell can tolerate my endurance training (Cooking)
Im sure your endurance training is fantastic, sweetie, who doesn’t love a bit of charred regret??
(Who fw the Brian multiverse?!)
Ok ok ok, we know how You two met, but- how was your first kiss?
our first kiss was… completely accidental and entirely my fault.
We’re late. I’m frazzled. Tim’s handing me my lunch like the domestic menace he is, and he goes, “You’re forgetting something.”
Now obviously—obviously—he meant my lunch. That he was actively handing me.
But did I think that? No. No, of course not. My brain heard “you’re forgetting something” and immediately went “oh my god I forgot to kiss him goodbye???” Like we’ve been married for eight years and I work construction or something. So. I go oh, right! And i kiss him. No hesitation. No thought. Just instinct. Pure muscle memory from a relationship I apparently made up on the spot.
And he just. Looked at me.
Like this long pause. Blinking. Slow head tilt.
Then:
“I meant lunch, Brian.”
And I. Ascended. I left my physical form. My soul evacuated the premises. I have never known shame like that. I literally blacked out for half of the drive to class because I was too busy reliving my humiliation in 4K. Spent the whole day wondering if I had just assaulted my roommate. Was preparing a full apology monologue in the mirror. You know. Casual.
I didn’t say a word the rest of the day. I tried to become part of the wall. And he didn’t bring it up!! Not for hours.
Then hours later—HOURS—we’re watching TV, I’ve finally stopped sweating, and he just casually goes: “So… do you kiss all your roommates, or am I just special?”
And I choked. On air. On existence. I started apologizing and trying to explain and he just smirked. The worst smirk. He knew what he was doing.
To this day he still goes “you’re forgetting something” when he wants a kiss. And I panic like a pavlovian idiot.
Tim said to ask you instead SO how did you and Tim meet :0?
Okay. So picture this: it’s orientation day. Sun’s shining. Hope’s in the air. I’m wearing my “make friends not war” shirt. I see him. Brooding. Standing alone like he’s auditioning for the role of emotionally unavailable protagonist in a coming-of-age film.
I point. I whisper to myself: “That one. That’s gonna be my best friend.”
He looked at me like I’d just kicked his puppy.
And from that moment on, he despised me. I’m not even exaggerating. I would say hi—he would grunt. I’d ask how he was—he’d leave the room. I once complimented his shirt and he asked if I was having a stroke.
But here’s the twist.
Fate.
Dorm assignments came out. Boom. Roommates.
Suddenly he couldn’t escape me. We ended up in the same social circles, but Tim, being Tim, was about as emotionally warm as a parking meter. People didn’t get him, and they made jokes. I made the mistake of laughing at one.
He smacked me.
I saw God.
I apologized. Genuinely. He didn’t say much, but after that he just… started weeding people out. People who treated me like crap? He’d glare once and they’d vanish. Like some kind of antisocial bouncer. Apparently I’m “too friendly” and have “stray dog syndrome” (his words, not mine).
Then came the party. He wasn’t gonna go. Still doesn’t know why he said yes. But he had a panic attack halfway through, and I got him out of there. Walked him back. Kept it light. He leaned his head on my shoulder and didn’t pull away. Huge.
And the real kicker? I passed a test. Dumb physics thing. Wasn’t even that important. I hugged him, full force, no hesitation—
and he hugged back instead of shoving me off. Real stiff. Real awkward.
Then he went, “I knew you could.”
Like the world’s grumpiest Hallmark card.
TL;DR?
Tim hated me.
Thought I was loud and annoying and too friendly.
And now he shares his cigarettes and lets me fall asleep on his chest and threatens to fight anyone who looks at me weird.
…So yeah. Call it a win.
He makes it sound like a romantic comedy with trauma. Which, unfortunately, is mostly accurate.
You didn’t even just hate me, babe. You despised me. I mean like, soul-deep loathing. I said “hi” and you looked at me like I’d just killed your childhood dog. Before we even exchanged names. You told me to piss off with such gusto I actually laughed. Thought it was a bit. It wasn’t.
It wasn’t even the fun banter kind of hatred either. It was the deep, spiritual kind. Like I was offending your very existence by breathing too loud. You glared at me in silence for so long once I genuinely thought the earth was gonna crack open and swallow me to spare you the effort.
And now you get genuinely distressed if I go to bed without you. You used to flinch when I coughed too loud, and now you get offended if I don’t kiss you before work.
It gives me WHIPLASH. You hated me so thoroughly it was impressive. But! Like I said!
Fate.
I said I’d be your best friend one day. You just didn’t know I was right!
Tim said to ask you instead SO how did you and Tim meet :0?
Okay. So picture this: it’s orientation day. Sun’s shining. Hope’s in the air. I’m wearing my “make friends not war” shirt. I see him. Brooding. Standing alone like he’s auditioning for the role of emotionally unavailable protagonist in a coming-of-age film.
I point. I whisper to myself: “That one. That’s gonna be my best friend.”
He looked at me like I’d just kicked his puppy.
And from that moment on, he despised me. I’m not even exaggerating. I would say hi—he would grunt. I’d ask how he was—he’d leave the room. I once complimented his shirt and he asked if I was having a stroke.
But here’s the twist.
Fate.
Dorm assignments came out. Boom. Roommates.
Suddenly he couldn’t escape me. We ended up in the same social circles, but Tim, being Tim, was about as emotionally warm as a parking meter. People didn’t get him, and they made jokes. I made the mistake of laughing at one.
He smacked me.
I saw God.
I apologized. Genuinely. He didn’t say much, but after that he just… started weeding people out. People who treated me like crap? He’d glare once and they’d vanish. Like some kind of antisocial bouncer. Apparently I’m “too friendly” and have “stray dog syndrome” (his words, not mine).
Then came the party. He wasn’t gonna go. Still doesn’t know why he said yes. But he had a panic attack halfway through, and I got him out of there. Walked him back. Kept it light. He leaned his head on my shoulder and didn’t pull away. Huge.
And the real kicker? I passed a test. Dumb physics thing. Wasn’t even that important. I hugged him, full force, no hesitation—
and he hugged back instead of shoving me off. Real stiff. Real awkward.
Then he went, “I knew you could.”
Like the world’s grumpiest Hallmark card.
TL;DR?
Tim hated me.
Thought I was loud and annoying and too friendly.
And now he shares his cigarettes and lets me fall asleep on his chest and threatens to fight anyone who looks at me weird.
…So yeah. Call it a win.
honestly not sure if we’re bonding or just slowly carbon-monoxiding ourselves. either way love y’all 💞
just saw a dog and it reminded me of you.. not ’cause you look like a dog, i swear— because i love you unconditionally and would follow you into traffic.
also i might’ve dropped your phone in the sink…?
( @diagnosedeeznuts )
That’s dangerously sweet. I should be more concerned about the phone, but now I’m just picturing you following me into traffic with that dumb smile.
…You’re lucky you’re cute. Dry it off.
If your phone doesn’t make it, just take mine. I don’t need it. You already have everything important on it—my playlists, my photos, my soul. Probably my emergency contact info too, so it’s basically yours already.
…You’re not mad, right?
Mad? Brian, you could’ve launched it into a lake and I’d still kiss you goodnight.
Mildly horrified you just offered me your soul in a text about water damage? Yeah, a little.
I’ll take the phone, though. I already know your passcode.
okay first of all: bold of you to assume i wouldn’t launch myself into a lake to retrieve it. second: wait. WAIT. you’d still kiss me goodnight?? even after the sink incident??? babe that’s so romantic i’m gonna cry
also?? You knowing my passcode is so hot actually. Stealing my identity like that. You gonna start replying to my mom’s texts too or is that still my job?
If you launched yourself into a lake after dropping my phone, I’d be more concerned about your decision-making skills than the phone.
Also. I already reply to your mom. She thinks you’ve “really matured.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was me.
You have dinner with her next Friday. Hope you like pot roast and being referred to as “my better half.”
okay wait wait wait
so let me get this straight—
not only have you been texting my mom, pretending to be me, for who knows HOW long
but you’ve been doing it so WELL that she thinks i’ve “finally matured” and invited me to dinner next friday??
she called me “thoughtful,” tim. thoughtful. do you understand the gravity of that?? this woman once threw a fork at my foot because i forgot her birthday and now she’s sending me little 🥰 emojis because YOU said “pot roast turned out great, thanks again :)”
how are you real. how are you like this. i drop your phone in the sink and you still love me. you impersonate me and score dinner invites. we are not the same.
UGH. god i’m so into you it’s actually disgusting.
also—what am i wearing?? you set this whole thing up you better style me.
Correct. I’ve been pretending to be you with alarming success.
As for what you’re wearing—obviously that blue button-down she likes. The one that makes you look like you might own an iron, even though we both know you don’t. Cuff the sleeves. Leave the top button undone. Look presentable but effortlessly charming. Basically: me, but if you had your life together.
God help you if you forget to compliment the food. I can only do so much.
Try not to ruin my good impression. I’ve worked very hard on your reputation.
okay but counteroffer:
instead of me playing “brian: the reformed adult son” in your meticulously crafted dinner theater production…
how about i just bring you along?
like. think about it.
you already know the script. you are the script.
you’ve been texting my mom for months—you’ve got more emotional rapport with her than i do.
you compliment the food. i eat the rolls. we hold hands under the table. I let you take the conversational lead while i nod supportively and kick you under the table every time she brings up baby names or grandkids. you keep my mom convinced i’m a grown-up and not a man who broke his own microwave trying to defrost soup.
teamwork.
romance.
identity fraud.
Tempting offer. Really. The romance. The theatrics. The light seasoning of federal crime.
But I don’t do family dinners, Sunshine. You know that. Last one I attended ended with someone crying and a casserole dish being thrown. And that was before I said anything.
Besides, if I show up, she’ll figure out real quick that you’ve never said “thank you for the pot roast” in your life. I’ve set the bar too high. You bring me, and five minutes in she’s offering me the family inheritance.
You go. Be charming. Wear the shirt. I’ll be at home pretending not to worry about how many rolls you’ve eaten. Text me if she brings up baby names—I’ve got a list ready just to mess with you.
okay fiiine, you win—no charming plus-one this time.
but fair warning, i will be bringing you in spirit. loudly.
like “oh yeah, tim’s real good at fixing things—emotionally unavailable, but handy with drywall.”
“no ma, he doesn’t like pot roast, but he’ll eat it anyway and pretend it’s the best thing ever because he’s polite like that.”
“he’s got this face he makes when he’s pretending not to worry about me, it’s very endearing-slash-terrifying.”
just painting the full tim experience, y’know?
so if she ends the night asking when she gets to meet you in person… well.
you brought this on yourself :)
hope you like being mythologized over mashed potatoes.
and yes, I’ll be wearing the shirt.
top button undone. sleeves cuffed.
you are so lucky i’m stupid in love with you.
just saw a dog and it reminded me of you.. not ’cause you look like a dog, i swear— because i love you unconditionally and would follow you into traffic.
also i might’ve dropped your phone in the sink…?
( @diagnosedeeznuts )
That’s dangerously sweet. I should be more concerned about the phone, but now I’m just picturing you following me into traffic with that dumb smile.
…You’re lucky you’re cute. Dry it off.
If your phone doesn’t make it, just take mine. I don’t need it. You already have everything important on it—my playlists, my photos, my soul. Probably my emergency contact info too, so it’s basically yours already.
…You’re not mad, right?
Mad? Brian, you could’ve launched it into a lake and I’d still kiss you goodnight.
Mildly horrified you just offered me your soul in a text about water damage? Yeah, a little.
I’ll take the phone, though. I already know your passcode.
okay first of all: bold of you to assume i wouldn’t launch myself into a lake to retrieve it. second: wait. WAIT. you’d still kiss me goodnight?? even after the sink incident??? babe that’s so romantic i’m gonna cry
also?? You knowing my passcode is so hot actually. Stealing my identity like that. You gonna start replying to my mom’s texts too or is that still my job?
If you launched yourself into a lake after dropping my phone, I’d be more concerned about your decision-making skills than the phone.
Also. I already reply to your mom. She thinks you’ve “really matured.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was me.
You have dinner with her next Friday. Hope you like pot roast and being referred to as “my better half.”
okay wait wait wait
so let me get this straight—
not only have you been texting my mom, pretending to be me, for who knows HOW long
but you’ve been doing it so WELL that she thinks i’ve “finally matured” and invited me to dinner next friday??
she called me “thoughtful,” tim. thoughtful. do you understand the gravity of that?? this woman once threw a fork at my foot because i forgot her birthday and now she’s sending me little 🥰 emojis because YOU said “pot roast turned out great, thanks again :)”
how are you real. how are you like this. i drop your phone in the sink and you still love me. you impersonate me and score dinner invites. we are not the same.
UGH. god i’m so into you it’s actually disgusting.
also—what am i wearing?? you set this whole thing up you better style me.
Correct. I’ve been pretending to be you with alarming success.
As for what you’re wearing—obviously that blue button-down she likes. The one that makes you look like you might own an iron, even though we both know you don’t. Cuff the sleeves. Leave the top button undone. Look presentable but effortlessly charming. Basically: me, but if you had your life together.
God help you if you forget to compliment the food. I can only do so much.
Try not to ruin my good impression. I’ve worked very hard on your reputation.
okay but counteroffer:
instead of me playing “brian: the reformed adult son” in your meticulously crafted dinner theater production…
how about i just bring you along?
like. think about it.
you already know the script. you are the script.
you’ve been texting my mom for months—you’ve got more emotional rapport with her than i do.
you compliment the food. i eat the rolls. we hold hands under the table. I let you take the conversational lead while i nod supportively and kick you under the table every time she brings up baby names or grandkids. you keep my mom convinced i’m a grown-up and not a man who broke his own microwave trying to defrost soup.
teamwork.
romance.
identity fraud.
just saw a dog and it reminded me of you.. not ’cause you look like a dog, i swear— because i love you unconditionally and would follow you into traffic.
also i might’ve dropped your phone in the sink…?
( @diagnosedeeznuts )
That’s dangerously sweet. I should be more concerned about the phone, but now I’m just picturing you following me into traffic with that dumb smile.
…You’re lucky you’re cute. Dry it off.
If your phone doesn’t make it, just take mine. I don’t need it. You already have everything important on it—my playlists, my photos, my soul. Probably my emergency contact info too, so it’s basically yours already.
…You’re not mad, right?
Mad? Brian, you could’ve launched it into a lake and I’d still kiss you goodnight.
Mildly horrified you just offered me your soul in a text about water damage? Yeah, a little.
I’ll take the phone, though. I already know your passcode.
okay first of all: bold of you to assume i wouldn’t launch myself into a lake to retrieve it. second: wait. WAIT. you’d still kiss me goodnight?? even after the sink incident??? babe that’s so romantic i’m gonna cry
also?? You knowing my passcode is so hot actually. Stealing my identity like that. You gonna start replying to my mom’s texts too or is that still my job?
If you launched yourself into a lake after dropping my phone, I’d be more concerned about your decision-making skills than the phone.
Also. I already reply to your mom. She thinks you’ve “really matured.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was me.
You have dinner with her next Friday. Hope you like pot roast and being referred to as “my better half.”
okay wait wait wait
so let me get this straight—
not only have you been texting my mom, pretending to be me, for who knows HOW long
but you’ve been doing it so WELL that she thinks i’ve “finally matured” and invited me to dinner next friday??
she called me “thoughtful,” tim. thoughtful. do you understand the gravity of that?? this woman once threw a fork at my foot because i forgot her birthday and now she’s sending me little 🥰 emojis because YOU said “pot roast turned out great, thanks again :)”
how are you real. how are you like this. i drop your phone in the sink and you still love me. you impersonate me and score dinner invites. we are not the same.
UGH. god i’m so into you it’s actually disgusting.
also—what am i wearing?? you set this whole thing up you better style me.
