#I knew I’d fuck with this guy

[qunari-bunny]

well I finally played dragon age veilguard.🙃

[sunforgrace]

you guys please understand they were going to say “CASTIEL’S PERSONAL HEAVEN” and paper the walls like a teen girls room with pictures of dean pictures of dean’s face PLASTERED onto the bodies of beefcakes all while cheek to cheek blares out. as brought to you by fucking metatron

[urmomsfavelesbian]

the girls 🥺😭

[pzos-amiserableidiot]

There was so much he still could’ve done. I miss him. Fuck I forgot how much until now. Heading his voice again in like. Not rewatched videos. Hearing him saying the same words in different ways. Fuck man.

[trashbaget]

tell me your failed/embarrassing flirting stories to make me feel better, i’ll go first: today i said “get out of my way” forgot to say “i’m kidding” then immediately said “bye”

[tautozhone]

idk how to start this so this post is ab individual action, trying to motivate positive change in the world, etc etc

a lot of growing up in the US for me makes things feel more scary than they are. like it’s actually not that difficult to go out of your way to get a bottle of water or iced cup of water from some random drive through if you think you should do it. either fast food conglomerate or local actually, it’ll usually be cheaper than 5 dollars to get drinkable water. i try to have 5-10 dollars i can justify spending on water, and asking for change, because sometimes when i’m out driving i need to go grab water.

i do not do this for me as much as i try to do it specifically when i see someone who’s most likely homeless on a street corner. i’m sure one day i might do this and they might not be there when i come back, but what have i lost really? a bit of time and a bit of money that would’ve meant more to them, that i can hold onto until i see them next.

the pressure that a lot of people feel when they think “what can i do” comes from this grand narrative that the average citizen can singlehandedly fix the housing crisis. rich people? maybe. nonprofits? not in a day, not all one person still. what can i do is a question i ask a lot. what can i do, not just because it feels bad to move along like nothings wrong with the world, but what can i do that will do anything. what can i do that makes even the smallest change.

i feel like it took me too long to figure out a personal method to what i consider individual action. it’s taking time to get to my own financial stability to be able to do more. but for now it’s as simple as water and cash. not water and food, but water and cash.

individual action means a lot in small steps, go get a bottle of water bare minimum and the price of a meal if you can and then just give it to them. if it wasn’t such a miserably hot place where i live i would keep a pack of water in my car, which i still want to do for the sake of having immediate access to water to give someone who might need it- hot or cold sometimes won’t matter. but when it’s hot out, get cold water, if it’s cold out, a warm tea will hydrate more than coffee will as long as it’s not super caffeinated.

[neo-shitty]

GETO SUGURU.

[codgod-moved]

i’m FINALLY fully caught up on charlie’s qsmp vods 🎉

[mars-ipan]

i have such a knot in my shoulder rn

[apollos-boyfriend]

shoutout to this guy in rosie’s class who said “they didn’t have trees in prehistoric times. they just had big ferns” with FULL confidence

[justinefrischmanngf]

i have so much information about this random man’s sex life now because people in their late 20s LOVE telling me too much about their lives and i love listening to people be insane

[thehmn]

I’m a strong proponent of lying to get the help you need. I always try the truthful route first but if that gets me nowhere? Lying it is.

I think it’s important to respect other people’s time, wellbeing and money so I don’t do it in situations where I know I’m in the wrong, like if I want to get into a place just for fun and someone could get in trouble for letting me in wrongfully I’d rather not.

But sometimes people just don’t understand why something is important in your situation so you have to turn it into something they understand. When I lived in England I constantly lied about being pregnant so gas station employees would let me use their bathroom because for some reason they didn’t have public bathrooms.

Or when my doctor’s secretary couldn’t get it into her head that my stomach pains were very serious and concerning and insisted I couldn’t get an appointment this month so that evening I “found” a lump that I was pretty sure was nothing but it meant I had a reason to call her the next day and get a new appointment immediately and when the doctor told me the lump was harmless I could tell her what my real problem was and she immediately scheduled ALL the tests and examinations because she understood how concerning it was. I just had to get past the fucking secretary with a lie.

Fuck I even support that elderly man who lied about having four children who were stuck in a house during a flood but when the rescue team got there in a dinghy they realized it was four dogs. The guy knew he had to lie because he was too sick to help them himself (able bodied people in the area were able to save their own pets) and they wouldn’t have helped him if they knew it was “just dogs”. In the video the rescue team can be seen choking up and padding him on the back while he cries with his scared dogs in his arms. The team is clearly not mad because they can see how important the dogs are to him but I have no doubt he was right in thinking they wouldn’t have helped if he had told them the truth.

So do what ya gotta do and lie lie lie.

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[exopelagic]

my players don’t know it yet but the adventure we’re doing rn is me being silly goofy bc they hadn’t made their characters in time for me to plan around them. now that I Know Things the game can really start

[gooobraghhh]

I take overstimulation extremely seriously just so we’re all aware.

Most I’ve ever made a guy cum was 27 times in one session and all of those happened in the span of about 5-10 minutes

Got him really warmed up and started fucking him with a dildo while I alternated between whispering in his ear, biting his neck, playing with his chest etc. After only a minute or two he shyly muttered out that he was going to cum. I stopped, stared directly at him and we had this brief, telling moment of eye contact before he got so embarrassed he had to turn away. We both knew he was under the impression he couldn’t cum without touching his dick and the fact he almost just did was so fucking hot to me.

I pinned his leg over my shoulder and continued. Within a minute he was back to how he was before, just on the verge and I kept moving it while he shook beneath me. Finally let up after he came all over my hand and I asked if he’d cum sarcastically to make fun of how obvious and hard it was and he just whimpered out “… I came twice”

He absolutely should not have told me this because as soon as I knew making him cum over and over was on the table I was determined to go as far as I possible could, and hearing him say two like that was addictively cute. I Pinned him even more and continued, told him to count every time he cums before quickly getting back into it.

27 times I made this very masc dude cum. 27!

Didn’t even think that was a possible number. Every 15-30 seconds I’d feel him tense up and clench on the dildo then I’d hear his little chocked voice murmur out a number before I kept going. He made a giant fucking mess, squirting basically each time in the beginning. I kept moving the goal post further and further, “come on let’s just get to 10 puppy!”, “I think we could do 15 don’t you?”, “Whoops that was a 16th one, well we might as well get to twenty, right?”. He was fully trembling, shaking, crying. His eyes were in constant state of being rolled back and the noises he was making were so intense. The best part was hearing him count though, it was the only coherent thing he would say and he struggled to get out each number but if he didn’t count I’d start choking him.

Hearing a grown man moan out “25” or whatever ridiculous number we were on has to be one of the hottest things I’ve experienced. I would have kept going forever but he was begging and pleading for me to stop and for some reason I don’t think he believed that I’d really let him be done at 30

He was a complete fucking mess after as you’d imagine. Basically just sat there in a daze for 10 minutes but I made sure to make fun of him. I mean 27? Really? Just an embarrassingly high number. He also physically couldn’t handle any play for like several days after this so safe to say I throughly worked him out.

I guess now my goal in life will be to get someone to 30

[digitaldiseas3]

i fucking love fags