#and i looked at my arm and realized i was growing a new butthole on my arm

[sunsteez]

HellO!!

Wow okay so it has been 2 years (almost 3)?? I feel like Tumblr is a very different place now and 3 years a lot of time so if you’re wondering who the fuck this even is popping up on your timeline I FULLY understand SCROLL ON MY FRIEND

If you’d like to continue reading an extremely long and jumbled stream of consciousness, keep goin under the cut

I’ve been wanting to post an update like this for a while, but it’s been really hard for me to sit down and write something because of how disconnected I am at this point to the Haikyuu community, and how guilty I was feeling for just sort of..leaving abruptly? But I signed into my account recently and realized that after being inactive for years I was still getting the kindest, most warm hearted messages- not just about art, but people saying they missed me popping up on their feed, that wherever I was, they hoped I was doing well, or that I was happy, and folks just checking in and genuinely concerned and wondering if I was okay. I also realized that it was pretty uncool of me to just sort of peace out like that without an explanation, so I thought I owed you all at least that much.

*Things are about to get a little sad here (just a warning, in case you’re not feeling up for that)*

Basically, around the time I left, a very close childhood friend of mine passed away in a very tragic and unexpected accident.  She was like a sister to me, someone who was always there and was always supposed to be there- we grew up together, shared so many first experiences side by side, and of course we annoyed the shit out of each other to no end. She was supposed to be there for my other firsts, but now I have to do them alone. Losing her broke me like nothing I’ve ever felt in my entire life.  The pain was both terrifying and debilitating, and I had to take a break from EVERYTHING for a while. I went backpacking for a month in the woods with a couple of friends to get away, no service or anything, completely detached from everything and days of just walking, eating, sleeping, and being in nature.  It was very healing. And I guess I never really came back.

This blog was a safe and happy escape for me, a place to just have some laughs and fun, and that’s what I wanted it to be for everyone else. My life on social media was always pretty separate from my real life (though y’all got a weird ol chunk of that in the tags), but this especially had no place on my account.  I didn’t want to bring something so unpleasant and painful into my safe space, but that resulted me in completely abandoning this blog altogether since that loss is something I’m still learning to cope with.

I am finally feeling ready now so I’m here to say: I am okay!! I’m still picking myself back up, but I’ve come such a long way.  I’ve been seeing a therapist for almost 2 years now who’s helped me deal with not only the grief of losing my friend but making sense of past traumas I’ve experienced and teaching me to learn how and why I’m feeling the things that I do. I’m still the same fucking weirdo with maybe a bit more emotional depth. I’m now a full-time freelance animator and illustrator, and currently thinking about making the jump into comics!! And you know what, I don’t think any of that would have happened had it not been for the wonderful experience I’ve had on here.

Concerning the future of this account and contents: I guess it goes without saying but Full Eyes Full Hearts is officially being discontinued- thank you for the love and support for this comic, even if it was short lived. I know how frustrating it is to become invested in a story only for it to be discontinued, so I am sorry for those of you who were so looking forward to it. But here is a big 

*SPOILER ALERT*

They love each other.  They always loved each other. WHAT A TWIST THAT IS HUH I BET YOU DID NOT SEE THAT ONE COMING??????

*END OF EXTREMELY HUGE SURPRISING SPOILER*

I have no current plans to return to this account, but as Justin Bieber once said, “never say never.” Who knows, maybe someday I’ll get back into haikyuu (I heard my BOYY came back in some of the latest chapters and if there is oikawa content to consume I WILL consume it), maybe I’ll join another fandom? Maybe this brief resurfacing will awaken the tumblr child inside of me. Even I don’t know. For now though, I’ll be doin my own thing, working on my own projects and maybe one day you’ll find my work again!

I’ll also be popping in and out in the next week or so in case anybody has any questions or comments or wants to talk, ANYTHING

The world is wild right now, so I also just want to send some love to everyone. Things are not always happy, and that’s okay. Something that my friend taught me that I hold dear to this day is that: it’s important to laugh, and play, and cry when you’re sad, and just enjoy all the bad and good the world has to offer you. Because feeling means that you're alive.

I cannot thank everyone enough for the love and support you’ve given for me and my art, my mutuals for being there to inspire me and teach me and push me to do more, honestly I would not be where I was today without any of that.  I never took art seriously until I realized how much I enjoyed it on here. Maybe that sounds silly to some people that Tumblr Dot Com changed the course of my life, but it really did.

Thank you!!

[digitalcirce]

Oh, This Feels Strange (woman to pig transformation)

“Oh, what a strange dream,” Evie murmured, as wakeful thought slowly returned to her.  “I could have sworn it was real!”  But even so, her memories of it were rapidly slipping away, leaving just sensations – powerful, undeniable animal sensations that beat in her heart like a primal drum.  Moving with her… friends?  Group?  No, herd…  Feeling their presence… even… giving herself to them?  A flicker of tantalizing memory arose from the fading impressions, of herself on all fours, and a man – no, not a man, exactly, but her mate – filling her and taking her to the horizons that can only be found in dreams.  It was just… Evie was almost sure of it… in the dream, her lover had been a pig.  And so… so had she.  Had she?

But it was all slipping away.  She felt a gurgle in her stomach, which she assumed was hunger, and idly rubbed her belly.  Her pink robe had pulled open, exposing her intimates, and the flesh of her bare belly was warm to the touch.  Evie hoped that she wasn’t coming down with a cold or something…

But her health was not in jeopardy.  She was healthy now; and would be healthy in half an hour.  She just wouldn’t look the same.  Because her dream had been a portent – a calling, from the unknown primal part of her soul, beckoning her back to her true nature.  A heritage she didn’t even know she had.  But it had always been there, just below the surface, and it was more aptly who and what she was than the beautiful, busty, brunette beauty that she assumed herself to be.  

The gurgling and heat in her stomach were not hunger or illness, they were metamorphosis.  Starting in her womb, she was changing.  Her uterus stretched, becoming longer and thinner and spitting towards the top into two horns, curving into much shorter fallopian tubes.  Her ovaries swelled large, each and every human ova inside her changing like she was, until they comfortably nestled not human gametes, but pig eggs, in accordance with her prophetic dream.  Evie was no longer capable of bearing a human child, but she could get pregnant with as many piglets as she wanted!

Below her porcine womb, her cervix and vagina twisted, reshaping to cradle the coiled tumescence of an amorous boar – the type of lover she was meant to have.  The type of lover she would come to desire most.  Then, the first visible change began, as her soft, smooth vulva grew rosier and thicker, the lips twisting a little further backward to make mounting her easier.  A flush of pure pleasure overwhelmed Evie as her clitoris changed, swelling to six times its original size and sticking out as a ruddy, wrinkled love button that would bring her untold pleasure over the years.

Above her privates, a nub of flesh formed at the apex of her heart-shaped ass, twisting out rapidly until she had grown a wiggly pig’s tail.  The sow-to-be didn’t notice, still breathing hard after the sensation of her clit reshaping, but the cute, energetic thing was clear evidence of the animal she was destined to become.  Below it, her demure little butthole widened, the wrinkled starfish swelling large and leathery between her sexy cheeks.  It bulged outward a bit, so that when the four-legged animal pooped, it would fall past her pussy with no risk of touching it.

The transformation then rocketed back up her bowels, shrinking intestines into more robust coils, and expanding her stomach to take larger meals.  Heart and lungs changed as it passed upward, going up her throat and shifting her tongue even as canine teeth began to develop into tiny tusks.  At that point, her nose began to turn upwards, and Evie’s heavy breathing began to take on the overtones of grunting.

“What the hell?  This feels strange,” Evie managed to say, but she was not yet aware that she was really a pig; that her transformation was a perfectly natural thing.  Instead, she thought she was suffering from some kind of indigestion.  The gorgeous girl tried to stand, but just flopped back on her bed.  By now, the former bottom of her nose was growing blunter and more sensitive, and her ears had begun to enlarge, pushing out beyond her rich brunette tresses.  Her toes stared to harden and swell, and as one leg flopped over the other, she felt the hard rubbing of what would become her hooves.  Evie shook her head, trying to clear it.  If she crossed her eyes, she could see the end of her growing snout.  And the wiggling behind her… she reached back, touching her tail for the first time.

Evie gasped, taking in her mutating body.  What was happening?  But she knew.  Deep down, she knew.  Only one animal had a tail like that.  In a rush, the sensations of her dream came back to her, confirming her fears.  “No – not a pig!” Evie squealed, overwhelmed.  But her transformation wouldn’t be arrested by such trite little protests.  She looked down at her hands, gasping as they shifted too, hands and feet both deforming into blocky hooves.  Her thumbs and big toes were lost entirely, the outer digits reshaping into dew claws and the main ones capped with a hard shell of keratin for her to walk on.

“No, no, no!  I don’t want to looEEEEEse my hands!” the sow-to-be squealed.  Her hooves seemed so ugly to her, so useless!  But if she needed to pick anything up, the pig could always use her trusty snout.  The busty brunette was still in denial, but she would find her new body well adapted to all of a pig’s needs.  She snorted and grunted, finding it harder and harder to make intelligible words.

Along her belly, twelve little welts formed, plumping up into thick, piggish nipples.  Teats that could feed the many piglets she realized she was now capable of bearing.  The dream image of the boar on her back, filling her so perfectly, both warmed her loins and turned her blood to ice.  Yes, she might well become a mother pig, and sooner than she thought.

Then, Evie started to fatten, bulking up like a true pig.  Her belly took the brunt of it, becoming a flabby potbelly until her back lengthened to spread her into a characteristic barrel shape, but her thighs plumped too, and her butt, as her sexy cheeks swelled to support lovers bigger than a quarter of a ton.  And that wasn’t all.  Pure pork meat layered on over her back, too, and her neck and face, as her throat swelled out and tipped her head forward.  The brunette sow knew she was becoming a quadruped, and that her clothes were becoming uncomfortably tight.  As best as she could with her hooves, she twisted out of her robe and pushed her bottoms down.  But she was too clumsy to unhook her top, and felt it strain against its new load.

Evie’s arms and shoulder blades rotated downward, shrinking to become a pig’s forelegs, and her thighs and long, sexy legs compacted into ordinary hind legs.  Her smooth gorgeous skin thickened and developed a few sparse bristles, making her profile much more piggish.  Her new vulva and clitoris and butthole were brazenly displayed, beyond the young sow’s ability to conceal.  They twitched as her once-beautiful butt sloped into her thighs, all semblance of her human cheeks eradicated.

The pig continued to squeal as her head changed, snout stretching before her, and her brainpan flattening around a swiftly changing mind.  She had a pig’s brain now, and pig’s instincts infected the sow’s thoughts.  Instincts that recalled and normalized her dream, preparing her to live among her new species.  Her body continued to fatten until she weighed over four hundred pounds, her sexy pink top finally bursting from the strain and freeing her big, magnificent breasts.

Evie’s boobs flopped under her, pushed together by her forelegs into dramatic cleavage.  But her big feminine treasures were as unnecessary to her new life as her hands had been, and slowly they deflated, becoming smaller and smaller until they resembled her other dozen teats.  The sow had once been blessed with an extraordinary bosom, but now she didn’t have breasts at all.  She squealed as they failed her, but she couldn’t save them anymore than she could prevent any of her other changes.

Then, the fat sow’s rich brunette tresses started to regress, retracting into her flatter scalp and revealing the full glory of her ears.  Her hair was long, so it took a while, but the end result was a bare pig scalp.  It itched terribly as it became very short, so the fat pig was horrified to realize that she was relieved when it was gone.  Then, finally, her eyes changed, the expressive brown orbs darkening, becoming dark, beady little pig eyes buried in sockets on either side of her rooting snout.  She blinked, the reds in the room dulling, as her animal vision became noticeably inferior to her senses of hearing and smell.

At last, it was finished.  Where once a beautiful, buxom woman had sprawled on her bed, now a fat sow squealed forlornly.  Awkwardly, she flopped down to the floor, her small, sensible hooves holding up her bulk perfectly.  She waddled about, the voice of instinct helping her navigate her unfamiliar form.  It wasn’t like she forgot her human memories, but with her pig’s brain, it was so easy to listen to that voice…just listen, and obey… obey… be the sow she was meant to be…

The fat pig laid down on the rug, snuffling sadly.  She was revolted by the thought of submitting to the instincts of her new species, but the sow’s options were suddenly quite limited.  Evie was a pig now, and would just have to get used to it.  She didn’t know yet if she was a pig for life, or a kind of were-pig that would return to her true form every time she dreamed prophetically of swine.  But the future didn’t matter as much because in the present she was definitely a pig, in no danger of turning back anytime soon.  And she was hungry.  With resignation, the grunting sow pushed herself to her hooves and waddled downstairs, looking for something to fill her empty belly.

Stock image used available from Shutterstock at https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/beautiful-model-posing-on-bed-underwear-1253972950

[icecreambeach]

a prompt I hope you saw coming: McCree, sunning his butthole

I did my best to live up to this real-life comedy gold.

So this takes place very early on in the gang’s reunion, when they’re still training as a team and Hanzo/Genji are still a little tense with each other. (Hopefully I kind of conveyed that through context clues alone but just wanted to be sure since I didn’t want to spend a lot of time polishing this because I have lol zero time.)

I hope it TAINT bad.    : - D

-

The simulation is set: nine opponents, fourteen hazards and two environments. McCree figures the first will be blizzard—why else would Mei be up in the box, waving down at them with that innocent smile?—but he has no clue on the second.Probably it has something to do with Genji, since he’s over half an hour late.

“It’s not like him,” mutters Angela, a little too opaque to show any judgment.Hanzo’s judgment, however, is very clear; he snorts loud enough for even Winston to look over, and he’s all the way up in the box with Mei.“I’m sure he’s just puttin’ the finishing touches on things,” Jesse drawls, nudging his boot into the concrete to scratch an itch on his heel.

“My brother is not one for keeping to a schedule,” says Hanzo. The effort to keep any bitterness out of his tone must’ve been monumental.

Jesse’s a quickdraw with more than a gun, so he’s a little miffed when Reinhardt gets to be magnanimous before he can: “I have seen people change in greater ways and in far less time  than in our Genji.” He clasps a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder and Jesse feels even more miffed when the archer doesn’t bristle and brush Reinhardt away like his usual character would dictate. “Perhaps he will surprise you.”

Hanzo seems to hum and cough at the same time. Reinhardt takes his hand back and Jesse licks his teeth behind his lips. “Dunno ‘bout that, Rein. Dickin’ off to meditate is still dickin’ off.”But both Reinhardt and Hanzo give him looks of disappointment and displeasure, respectively. Jesse coos out air like the room is getting hot, looking up at nothing, then turns instead to Angela, who is masterfully ignoring the entire situation.

“You get those new bio-shots in yet, doc?”“Not yet. But the shipment should come any day now. It’s not unusual for that kind of order to take so long. I once tried to have two gallons of e-CTM delivered to a safe house in Bucharest and the driver—”“Oh thank Christ,” Jesse mutters when Genji jogs into the room.“Forgive my lateness,” says Genji. “Torbjorn had not yet finished our suits.”The whole team squints at him. “Suits?” says Reinhardt.

Genji sets down twin crates and hits a button on their sides to let them snap open. “Winston wanted me to set the environment today, so I decided on fire.”Hanzo scoffs even louder than before. Jesse gets the feeling there’s some joke he’s not in on.Reinhardt, ever doe-eyed, persists: “fire?”“Yes. But these suits are not fire-repellant. They are fire-attractive.”Angela actually sounds intrigued, if a tad apprehensive: “come again?”“They will attract fire.” Genji takes out a suit and holds it up; it looks like a Tour de France onesie, only with far shorter shorts. Jesse thinks he’d be shocked if they even cleared his inner thighs. “Particularly to the torso and head.”“Gotta be shittin’ me,” mutters Jesse, turning away, spurs clicking.“Ridiculous,” rumbles Hanzo.��I do not see why I deserve such dissent,” Genji says, his robotic voice a lofty, melodic drawl. “I have designed this course to mimic the eventuality of a burning building. Something most of you would have difficulty overcoming,” he adds with a carefree lilt and tilt of his head. He leans towards the room com link on the wall and holds down the button, carrying his voice to the box above as well as the entire room. “Winston, Mei—you’ll find the simulation code under command 12-A.”

“If you are selecting an environment in which you are already an expert,” Hanzo drawls back, his own voice the total opposite of carefree, “then what is the point of your participating?”“It will still be a challenge for me. I have not been in the position of having to assist other teammates during a battle for a long time.”“Yes,” Hanzo crosses his arms, and Jesse pre-winces before the man even finishes, “Your position is more often far behind enemy lines, getting yourself injured and then calling for help.”Genji crosses his arms, too, though he keeps his tone light. “Now, brother. That was long ago.”“So that has never happened, then?” Hanzo quickly fixes his intense gaze on Angela, who hesitates just one second too long; Hanzo looks back at Genji with the most superior smirk Jesse has ever seen.Genji rolls back one shoulder, seemingly unperturbed. It’s hard to tell with the mask. “Overwatch is based on teamwork. We have all been in the position of requiring help from time to time. That is the reality of working with others—something that you, perhaps, could benefit to learn.”“I have worked in groups many times, as you are well aware.”“And the general of a group, what is their position, often?”“I do not have to explain myself to you.”“No, you just need to adhere to the new order of things.”“You should adhere to—”“I can’t wear that!”Everyone turns to look at Jesse.

The gunslinger clears his throat—he hadn’t really meant to shout—and squares his hips towards Genji. “I can’t put that on.”Genji lowers his arms and puts one hand on his hip, obviously sensing another mutineer. “And why not?”“There’s no way those things ain’t gonna ride up my groin like they’re goin’ for a chokehold. You ever see those boxer-briefs where the legs are just a tad too short on a guy with big thighs? Turn into tighty-whities before you can—”“Oh, please,” says Angela, barely suppressing an amused, if a little grossed-out grin. “I’ve seen you wear far more uncomfortable things for a mission, Jesse. It will only be for a couple hours.”“Certainly!” Reinhardt half-lifts his axe, “Remember those wet-suits in the North Sea? I could hardly breathe! And we were in those all day. Also, my thighs are far—”“Well I wasn’t dealin’ with localized bodily damage at the time, Rein.”“Damage?” Angela looks him up and down. “Are you hurt?”“Naw,” Jesse pulls the brim of his hat down, which he quickly realizes he should not have done, because most of them know him well enough to take that as a clear signal that he is hiding something. “I mean… not in any… it wouldn’t interfere.”

“It seems to be interfering now,” says Genji.“Jesse, if you are injured, you cannot just keep it to yourself. What if we had to ship out today?”“Tell us what it is, Jesse,” says Winston over the room com. “Better to take care of it now.”“It don’t need takin’ care of!” Jesse grumbles, his voice growing louder without his consent. “I just… I can’t be wearin’ shit like that.”Genji looks at the suit still in his hand, then slowly back at Jesse, who feels all the hairs on his arms stand up. “Is it a…” He gestures vaguely to his own pelvic area.“No! Jesus. I mean… not in the way you’re…”

Jesse’s throat closes up as he realizes the deep, deep hole he’s dug under his own feet. Everyone is staring at him with varying levels of suspicion, except for Hanzo, whose face looks more like… alarm? Apprehension?

Jesse sighs. Just get it over with.

He mumbles under his breath.“Sorry?” says Angela. Genji takes a step closer.“I sun-burned my perinmhihmm,” Jesse mutters a little louder, still barely legible.“Wait,” says Genji, who physically removes the com-link from the wall and holds it up to Jesse’s mouth, holding down the button so that his voice echoes like God’s judgment. “Can you just,” the cyborg almost trips over his barely-suppressed laughter, “Can you repeat that please Jesse?”Jesse stares him dead in his green-lit visor and, in his most confident drawl, announces to the entire room: “my pucker hole is crazy burned.”

The laughter hits them all differently: Genji’s head flies backwards with a sharp bark that dissolves into ludicrous snorting, Reinhardt brays one loud note that bounces off the walls again and again, Angela covers her mouth and laughs until Jesse sees her whole face turn red, and Hanzo, also hiding his mouth with his hand, lets his chuckles mostly just shake around inside his chest. He’s the only one who doesn’t look away from Jesse.

“Alright.” Jesse looks up towards the box where Mei is leaning over a console as if having a heart attack and Winston is trying to make sure she’s okay through his own chortling. “Alright, now. Ain’t that goddamn funny.”“Are you shitting me?” Genji, barely able to stay upright, shakes his open hand fingertips-first at Jesse, “How? How could that have possibly happened?”“It’s… it’s a type a’yoga! Shit. You never heard of it?” Jesse puts his hands on his hips, decides he might as well own it. “S’called ‘perineum sunning.’” While Genji collapses into laughter all over again, he goes on, “S’all about absorbing the sun into your body through your… your grundle.” Genji is almost on the floor now, repeating the word ‘grundle’ to himself like it’s a holy mantra. “I been having, y’know, trouble sleepin’ and the like… thought it’d boost my auric field with the power o’the sun and whatnot. Keep my life force from leaking out and all.”Now Genji is repeating ‘leaking’ to himself in a very high-pitched voice while Angela, bless her, manages enough self-control to speak. “Joking aside… Jesse, that does sound serious. Have you… done anything…?”“No! What am I supposed to do? Stick a biotic emitter up there and hope for the best?”“N-no,” says Angela, still fighting giggles but blessedly stepping in front of Reinhardt and Genji, who are both using Reinhardt’s hammer as a kind of crutch for their hysterics. “But some burn ointment may help. Do you have any aloe vera?”Jesse snorts. “Yeah… probably in my kit somewhere.”“You should apply some. Perhaps… perhaps you should sit out this session to do so. We can… ping Lucio to replace you.”“God, yes, please,” Genji wheezes, “Please let’s bring Lucio out here.”Fully aware that Lucio is not really an appropriate replacement for what he brings to the table, Jesse grumbles a thank-you and turns heel for the door. But right before he exits (since Genji and Reinhardt are still laughing), he sticks his head back in to add: “it’s an ancient fuckin’ Taoist practice!”

-

An hour later, someone knocks at Jesse’s door. He almost ignores it, but at the second knock—faster, snappier—he gets up to at least see who it is. If it’s Genji and Lucio come to taunt him, he can at least open the door with his gun in his hand.But it’s Hanzo, standing all regal with his hands resting inside his kimono jacket. Obviously still amused but doing a good job of trying to hide it. A much more welcome sight, despite everything.

Jesse taps the door command and leans on the frame with as much swagger as he can muster. “Well hey there. Sim went by kinda quick, huh?”“Yes,” says Hanzo, those perfectly-shaped lips toying with a smirk, “It was difficult to achieve adequate team cohesion after your… announcement.”“Well, ain’t my fault we’re workin’ with a couple’a gigglin’ frat boys,” Jesse sighs, stepping aside.

The door hisses shut behind Hanzo, who immediately walks to the console. “Athena, cease surveillance of this room. Command three dash eight hundred and four.”“Confirmed,” says Athena.“Still don’t know how you managed to swipe Winston’s command codes,” chuckles Jesse.“It was a crime of necessity.” Hanzo comes up close, presses against Jesse’s front. Chin tipped up to smirk at him. “I don’t want anyone seeing or hearing what I do to you.”Jesse opens his mouth to agree, but Hanzo seizes that opportunity to plant his own mouth there, tugging down on the gunslinger’s chin to line them up. Their arms wrap, their bodies slot, and Jesse lets out a low rumble of pleasure. Hanzo kisses him slower and warmer than he has yet and the effect is melting. Time goes still and Jesse swears he hears a bird singing.

“Wha,” Jesse clears his throat, when it’s over, looks down at Hanzo from heavy-lidded eyes. “What was that for?”“For lying for me,” Hanzo hums. “I will admit,” He playfully unbuttons Jesse’s flannel shirt, “That was the most unorthodox way of getting out of having to show a hickey I have ever heard of, but I commend your creativity.”“Huh?”Hanzo gently pats Jesse’s cheek, still smiling. “Stay with me, cowboy. I appreciate you keeping our time together a secret. I do not know how the others would have reacted if they saw what I did to your thighs.”“Oh.” Jesse takes a half-step back, still loosely holding Hanzo by the elbow with one hand while the other scratches at a side-burn. “Well… yeah, Han. I know you wanna keep things quiet for now.”“It is for both our benefit,” Hanzo mutters into Jesse’s jaw. “It is… I have never done this before. Nothing like this. I want to take things slowly.”“O’course. I mean, I… y’know I’ve had a shaky run of things, too. Though I’d yell it from the top of the rock this afternoon, if you gave the go-ahead.”Hanzo chuckles, that warm, resonant rumble that Jesse is already falling a little bit in love with. “Perhaps someday.”As he goes to kiss down Jesse’s throat, the gunslinger coughs a little. “Well, there’s… I mean, there’s that, but…”Hanzo’s smile fades as he blinks up at Jesse. A shadow of worry crosses his face and Jesse’s heart spasms in pain. “But what?”Jesse sighs again, only with ten times more despair than in the simulation room.“But I really did burn my pucker hole.”There’s a moment in which Hanzo just stares with gently widened eyes, as if he doesn’t understand. Then a bubble of disbelieving laughter makes his chest contract. “You…” More chuckles bubbles up and Jesse thinks it’d be damn endearing, the way this usually self-controlled man can’t hold back his laughter, if he didn’t feel a very real burn of embarrassment spreading across his own face. Not to mention the burn between his ass cheeks.“You what?” Hanzo asks, as if he is really trying to give Jesse the benefit of the doubt here.

“I went down on you for nigh on an hour yesterday on the top of a cliff with my bare ass pointed at a 3pm sun in the goddamn Mediterranean, Han! What did you think was gonna happen?” Jesse pauses, his eyes fly off somewhere up and to the left, then come back to Hanzo with his tone even higher-pitched: “and you don’t think I’d come up with a better lie than that if I had to!?”

“I didn’t… I am sorry, I did not…” Hanzo is practically choking, his hand slapped up over his mouth again.Jesse sighs. He looks at Hanzo, with his shaking shoulders and his bouncing bang-hair, and a rueful half-smile breaks through his irritation. “S’okay, darlin’. You can laugh. It’s funny.”Then Hanzo lets out a bark of laughter even louder and grander than Genji’s, his head tossing back in a very similar fashion. His hands tremble as they hold onto Jesse’s shirt flaps for dear life. The sight is almost enough to make Jesse forget about the horrible, horrible pain.It’s not long before the archer comes back down to earth. “I,” Hanzo starts, wiping away a tear, “I am deeply sorry for this… for your…”“Yeah, yeah.” Jesse adjusts the waistband of his loose sweatpants, which is about the only article of clothing his ass can stand now. “Never gonna live this one down, y’know that? Genji’s probably gonna bring it up at my goddamn funeral.”“I apologize,” Hanzo says, both hands still holding onto Jesse’s shirt. “Why did you not say something sooner?”“Couldn’t find the right words, I guess.”“‘My pucker hole is crazy burned’ now seem like the only right words.”Jesse scoffs and rolls his eyes and cackles into his hand, then winces as the movement makes his thighs shift too much. Suddenly he turns boyish: “it really hurts, sweetheart.”Then Hanzo draws forward with a sound like a low, rough coo, and smoothes out Jesse’s shirt. “If you are truly in need,” his eyes sweep up to Jesse’s and Jesse can’t express how much that adds to his downstairs discomfort, “I can assist you with that aloe vera.”“Really, Han, you ain’t gotta—”“I insist. It is the least I can do after your…” Hanzo gets closer, smirks with those cat-like eyes dangerously narrowed, “…Skilled favors.”Jesse feels a very different kind of burning and chuckles, looking off to the side. “Aww, Han. I don’t think that’ll be as enjoyable as you’re makin’ it sound…”“I will make it enjoyable.” He lowers his hand and palms over Jesse’s cock to prove his point. Licks Jesse’s bottom lip into his mouth and lets it slide out between his teeth.Well, shit. “Alright,” Jesse sighs, “You insisted and all.”

“Mmm,” Hanzo purrs, still rubbing Jesse through his sweats. “And do not worry about Genji. I know many stories of his that more than overshadow yours.”“As nice as that is, darlin’, I really don’t wanna talk about your brother right now.”“Then stop talking and get on the bed.”

[duhragonball]

7 Comfort Movies

Tagged by @pandemicpicnic . List your seven favorite comfort movies, then tag 7 people.   

This is a good thing to pass around, since I could use the diversion, and as I think about this list, I realize how long it’s been since I last saw a lot of these movies.  

In no particular order...

1) Dragon Ball Z: Fusion Reborn

I dunno if these are necessarily comfort movies, as opposed to just movies I like the best, but I don’t watch movies a whole lot, so I’m guessing my all-time favorites are probably close enough.   Movie 12 is good watchin’, period.   This is a movie about everyone working together.    Friends, enemies, strangers, the living and the dead, the damned and the divine.   I watch this movie and wish that we in the real world could put aside our differences so easily and blow up all the Nazis.

2) Superman IV: The Quest for Peace

People say this is the worst Superman movie, but fuck that noise.   This is the only one where Superman throws all the nuclear weapons into the sun.    But one of them has a chicken nugget attached to it, which grows into a clone of Superman with scratchy fingernails, his only weakness.    So Superman has to kick his ass on/with the moon, and then tell everyone that nuclear war is too big a job for Superman, because we’ll just re-arm the minute his back is turned. 

This is a story about high school physics, Luthor.     Sometimes the things we fear the most are only the darker side of our greatest strengths.   If humanity has the power to destroy itself, then doesn’t that mean we have the power to save ourselves as well?   The choice is ours.  

3) Spaceballs

Some killjoys actually hated this movie, and point to it as evidence that Mel Brooks lost his touch.   I respectfully submit that those people are dumb.  Spaceballs came out during the dark years between Return of the Jedi and Phantom Menace, when we all wanted more Star Wars but thought we would never get more.    Brooks heard our pleas, and gave us this movie, which is basically Star Wars with dick jokes all over it.   People always go on about how Star Trek predicted smartphones and the Simpsons predicted the Trump administration, but only Spaceballs was prescient enough to declare: “Fuck!    Even in the future, nothing works!”

This is a story about following your heart.    If all you care about is duty, and obligation, and profit, you’ll end up marrying some dullard, or owing your soul to a talking pizza, or roaming the universe in search of air.   

4) Batman: Mask of the Phantasm

This is the best Batman movie ever, and maybe even the best comic book movie period.    In 1994, Batman the Animated Series was popular enough that they made a feature film and ran it in theaters and everything.  I remember some smartass article at the time questioning whether parents would see the point in taking their kids to watch a movie of something that’s on TV for free, which is just dumb.    It’s not like they ran four episodes of the TV series for this thing.   It’s an original story!   Anyway, Batman has to figure out what the deal is with this new vigilante who fights crime with murder, which is also a crime.   He also gets very sad in place and it’s very emotional and I bought the soundtrack as soon as I could because I wanted to listen to it and feel things.

This is a story about the future, and promises, and the roads not taken.   And when all is said and done, maybe the choices we made were the right ones after all, in spite of our second-guesses.

5) Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi

I considered putting Revenge of the Sith on this list, since that’s usually the one I look up clips from on YouTube, but there’s no topping Jedi.   I saw this in the theatre when I was six and everything was awesome.    Jabba the Hutt, wint-o-green lightsabers, speeder bikes, Ewoks breaking stuff with logs and rocks, it’s just a pleasure to watch.   Also, this movie introduces Emperor Palpatine, and lays the foundation for the Sith lore that made me love Revenge of the SIth in the first place.  Not long after we got home from seeing this movie in 1983, I tried to draw this scene in the screencap above, because it left such a deep impression on me.   

This is a story about feelings.    Every butthole in Star Wars is always telling everyone else what to feel and how much they should feel it, and don’t get too attached to this or that.     But in this movie Luke has to exercise restraint and then cut loose, give into his passions and then reign them in, care for his friends and family but also be willing to let them go.    Everyone can give him advice, but he’s got to hoe that row himself, and figure it out as he goes.   He doesn’t always get it exactly right, but he still gets it.   

6) The Transformers: The Movie (1986)

The historians will say that cartoons like the original Transformers were nothing more than glorified toy commercials, made possible by the deregulation of children’s entertainment in the 1980′s.    I find this incredibly unfair, because that analysis ignores the fact that Transformers was a fucking awesome cartoon.    They’re all robots, so they could shoot and punch each other without any guff from standards and practices. And since the show was designed to promote an entire toy line, there were literally dozens of characters, each given a surprising amount of character and personality.   Starscream (center) and Ramjet (right) are practically the same toy, but kids wanted both of them because Starscream is a whiny, shitty drama queen, and Ramjet is a dumbass who likes to hit things with his head.     Astrotrain (left) is just a cool dude who can be a train or a space shuttle. 

This movie is the height of the franchise, where they could raise the stakes even higher, and introduce even crazier concepts like planet-eating monsters and robots actually killing each other for keeps.    I see fans from my generation acting all traumatized over all the deaths, like they never should have done that in a movie marketed for children, but this was a story about renewal.   The old order changeth, and it falls to the newcomers to rise up and carry on.    I’ve always taken a lot of comfort in the way these characters pass the torch.    The Smurfs were never brave enough to have Papa Smurf name his successor.  

7) UHF

Geez, I haven’t watched this one in forever.    I’d have to double-check to see if I even have it on DVD.    UHF was the ‘Weird Al’ Yankovic vehicle from the late 1980′s.   I want to say ‘89.    He plays a guy who takes over a TV station and runs all these ludicrous shows on it until it becomes the most popular channel in town.   It’s basically a bunch of sketch comedy stitched together into a movie, and it doesn’t try to apologize for this.  

This is a story of the importance of imagination, and of being true to yourself.   Al’s character has trouble finding a steady job, and its’ easy to conclude that there’s something wrong with him, but it’s really just that he hasn’t found the right opportunity for his passions and skills.   Once he finds his place, he rises to the occasion.  

And that’s my list.   Now I gotta tag people.   @auralime, @ediblenonsense, @semercury​, @twobellsilence​, @drowning-in-this-starry-serenade​, @cozymochi​, and @glintea​.

[krashtheremnant]

Chicken Sliders (Pyro x Reader) SMUT

Don’t read this unless you’re a Pyro furfag like me. WARNING: Rated 18 for very sexual themes and actions, cursing, and furries. (Not really)

Please don’t read if you’re under 18. If you do then u nasty. Sorry Pyro. —–

It was past midnight and it was raining; usual weather for London, but no matter how often it rained she always enjoyed it. Storms relaxed her and gave her the perfect atmosphere to unwind. Her eyes illuminated with the light of her phone as she scrolled down recent uploads on YouTube. One of her friends Niall, also known online as ‘Pyrocynical’, had just uploaded a video about his Twitter being banned. She chuckled at the thumbnail, and clicked on the video. She had been curious as to why it had been taken down, and who better to explain then Pyro himself. It opened with some dude dressed in one of those inflatable T-rex costumes with some weaboo trash music in the background. She smiled and shook her head, laying against her cold window as she watched. “Wassup my fellow Harambe fans…” Niall’s deep voice echoed in the silence of her dark room, making her heart skip for a second. The weirdness of her body’s reaction made her pause the video and blink. “Strange…” She mumbled. Noticing the time, she decided that this would be the last video she watched before going to bed. She brushed off the bodily revolution, and pressed play.

Once the video ended, the (h/c) haired girl started to get ready for bed. She got into her pj’s and crawled onto her soft mattress, then plugged in her phone and rested her head on her pillow. Her eyes closed, the sound of rain helping to lull her to sleep, her last thoughts remained on Niall. Although strange, she didn’t seem to mind.

The next morning she was awoken by the sound of her phone vibrating against the wood of her nightstand. She grumbled and reached over to retrieve it, her tangled hair sticking out wildly. She turned on the screen, and saw that she had gotten a text from Niall. A smile creeped up on her lips as she unlocked her phone to read it. /Hey, (y/n) are u doing anything for lunch?/ She squinted to read the time in the corner of her screen. It was already 11:30 am. “Oh wow…” She scoffed, realizing she was actually hungry… and had to pee. /I haven’t planned anything. Did u wanna go get something?/ She replied hastily, then looked out the window. It was sunny for once. Within a few seconds, Niall responded. /I dunno I had this new recipe for these chicken slider things and I knew u liked chicken so I thought u’d be down to meme./ (Y/n) chuckled and texted back. /I’ll be over in a few just gotta get dressed n’ shit. Don’t start without me./ /I’ll try not to ;D/ /Weirdo/ /I’ll take that as a compliment/ /;p/ (Y/n) put her phone back on her nightstand and quickly got dressed. She threw on a t-shirt without a bra and then pulled a hoodie over that, not really bothered with her lazy appearance. She and Niall were good friends, there really wasn’t a reason to get all dressy. After sliding on a pair of worn jeans and her boots, she grabbed her wallet, keys, and phone, and headed out of her apartment.

She parked across the street from Niall’s building, and got out of her car. Her boots clunked against the asphalt as she paced over to the doors of his apartment complex. She walked into the building and up the stairs to Niall’s flat, and then knocked gently. She heard some rustling around from inside, then stepped back as the door opened. Niall stood in a sweatshirt and lounge pants. His strawberry blonde hair was tousled haphazardly, giving him the same kind of look as his friend. “Come on in.” He smirked and opened the door wider so (Y/n) could enter his apartment. As she walked past, her shoulder gently brushed against his chest, causing her cheeks to suddenly heat up. She swallowed, and shook the thoughts out of her head once again. “Let’s get cooking, I’m starving.” She chuckled to hide her awkwardness, kicking off her boots and placing them near the door. “That’s why I invited you over, isn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow with a sarcastic smile. “Don’t get snarky, I’ll beat your ass.” She joked and threw one if his throw pillows at him. He caught it and tossed it back on the couch. “That’s because it’s the only part of my body you can reach.” He teased, causing her to glare. “Bitch.” She chuckled. “Jerk.” He replied. “Just show me the recipe.” She rolled her eyes and walked into the kitchen. Niall’s smile grew as he followed her. He pulled out his phone and handed it to her with the recipe pulled up. “Seems doable.” Her eyebrows flexed together as she read. The device let out a sudden ding, and a text message from Roman dropped down from the top. /Hey hey hey how’s the date going furfag? xDddd/ She didn’t mean to read it, but couldn’t stop herself. The text made her blush and giggle, causing Niall to snatch the phone away from her out of embarrassment. “Stupid fucking idiot…” He growled, his cheeks growing a fierce crimson. “Sorry about that, you know Roman..” “Yeah, haha,” she chuckled and brushed a strand of hair out of her face before walking over to the counter where a deboned chicken sat. “Let’s get this started, eh?” “Please.” He sighed and grabbed some buns out of his pantry and some cheese out of the fridge. He placed the buns in a cookie pan and sprinkled the mozzarella on the bottoms then watched as (Y/n) began to spread the rotisserie chicken evenly over the bread. His eyes absently began to wander her form. Her wide hips, and her beautiful (h/c) hair. Even her (e/c) eyes made his throat tighten as they concentrated on the task at hand. He liked her. A lot. For awhile now he’d been trying to find an excuse to hang out with her, and now that he had one, he couldn’t find many words to explain his feelings. Hell, he doubted she even cared. He was just a face on YouTube, and apparently a lesbian looking one at that. He sighed, earning a glance from his friend. “Everything okay Mr. Pyrosanical?” (Y/n) asked in a mocking tone, using the Stomedy version of his name. He quickly buried all signs of his actual feelings and smiled again. “Aw hell yeah. Just can’t wait to get that meat in my mouth, boi.” He rubbed his hands together, and preheated the oven to bake the sliders. “You love my meat in your mouth don’t you, you dirty snag?” She winked as she spoke in Tracer’s squeaky voice, completely unaware of the thoughts that her words provoked in Niall’s mind. He closed the oven, then leaned against the counter to look at her with an amused expression. “I’d prefer Roadhog.” He replied. “Of course you would.” She rolled her eyes again and began to walk out of the kitchen. “Where you off to?” Niall asked. “I gotta pee, is that alright master Pyro?” She joked. “Only if you put the seat back up.” He called after her, snorting when he got a middle finger in response. A deep breath escaped his lips as he went to respond to Roman. /You dumb asshole she had my phone/ He hit send, and a few moments later his phone buzzed. /How was I supposed to know/ /Cunt/ /Have u smashd her like button yet ;O ;) / Niall pursed his lips and grumbled at Roman’s reply. /Fuck u mate we havent even eaten yet/ /Have dessert first kno what I mean Xd/ /Kill yourself/ /Gladly/ /Gtg u dumb slut/ /Kiss u later gayboy unless she beats me to it/ /Fag/ / <3 / He laughed and put his phone back in his pocket. The suggestive thoughts returned to his mind as he hear (Y/n) finish washing her hands and exit the restroom. “Aaah, much better. My bladder is happy.” She said in a giddy tone. Niall shook his head and chuckled. “What are you laughing at?” She glared. “You.” He smirked. “Well no shit, why?” She crossed her arms with a soft grin. “I dunno.” He lied. “Butthole.” She punched his arm and opened the oven to slide in the pan, then set it to bake. “Better watch your mouth, that kind of language will get your Twitter shut down.” He poked at her. “Mleh.” Her tongue stuck out. She turned around, only to be met by Niall’s chest. His mild scent brought her heart into her throat. She looked up slowly and met his mesmerizing blue-green eyes. His gaze was intense yet gentle at the same time, holding her (e/c) gaze captive. Her heartbeat sped up as one of his hands came up to her cheek. Her hand came up to rest on his chest. “(Y/n)…” He spoke softly, brushing another bit of stray hair out of her face. His confidence grew as her eyebrows began to arch with curiosity. “I need to tell you something.” “What is it, Niall?” Her voice was barely audible. This felt like one of her dreams, and any moment she’d wake up, making her want to hold on so much more. Her fingers dug gently into his hoodie. “I… I like you. A lot. More than a lot actually,” He let out a breathy laugh. “And I wanted to know if you felt the same?” (Y/n) smiled brightly and leaned her face into his palm slightly. “Yeah, I think I do, unfortunately.” She began to giggle but was suddenly stopped by a warm pressure against her lips. It felt as if the world just stopped. Her eyes snapped closed as she melted into Niall’s tall form. Their lips moved together with a new desperation neither of them had felt in some time, until they both had to break off to breathe. (Y/n)’s teeth raked against her bottom lip causing a deep, hungry groan to rumble in Niall’s throat. She could feel the hot tension between them both, and quickly acted. Her soft lips pressed against the underside of his jaw, slowly moving down to his neck. Niall’s grip shifted from her face to her lower back, and then to her ass. He gave it a rough squeeze, earning a yelp from her. He grinned with lust-filled eyes, and took advantage of her broken concentration to press his lips back to hers, pushing her back into the warm oven. He broke off, breathing heavily, before placing feverish kisses on her neck and behind her jaw. “Mmh… Niall…” She moaned gently, her grip tightening on his hoodie. Hearing his name spurred a fire deep inside him, causing him to bite down hungrily on the nape of her neck. “Niall!” She yelped out, and pressed her head into the crook of his neck and shoulder. “Fuck, I love that…” He growled and began to guide her out of the kitchen, not once allowing space to grow between their heated bodies. He waited until he felt his couch collide with the back of her knees before pushing her down onto it. Her hands stroked through his soft hair, messing it up further as she continued to kiss him. Niall’s body kept hers caged against the couch, his arms the only things keeping them from being pressed together. Their lips parted for another brief moment, allowing them both to take in the view of each other. (Y/n)’s rosy, warm face made Niall’s breath hitch. “I want you.” He said with his low, predatory voice. His accent was clouded with lust. “I want you too, Niall…” (Y/n) breathed. She ran the pad of her thumb over his defined cheekbone. Her words were enough permission for him to continue his advance. His hand drifted down her torso, stopping at the bottom of her jacket. He began to lift it off of her, leaning back onto his legs so he could use both arms. Once it was off, he threw it onto the chair across the room and then went back for her shirt. She sat, her bare chest exposed to the chilly air of the room. Her arms quickly came up to cover her breasts. Niall’s hands gently gripped her wrists and held them over her head with her consent. “Don’t hide yourself from me… I want to see you.” He kissed her gently on the forehead, a gesture she wasn’t expecting. She let out a moan as he began to kiss her collar bone, and then through the valley of her breasts. He repositioned his hands so that he could gently caress one of them. His lips covered one of her nipples and began to suck. Her wrists twisted and strained against his stern grasp, her breathing grew ragged and littered with moans of arousal. Niall nipped gently at her skin, causing her to yell out once more. “Ah!” Her back arched slightly, and her legs scissored underneath him. He smirked and kissed the mark he had made. His hand grazed the soft skin of her stomach as it made its way to the waistband of her jeans. He thumbed at the button before beginning to pull them off of her legs. She kicked them the rest of the way off. Niall looked down at her as she squirmed and groaned beneath him. Her movements made his pants even tighter than they were. Seeing how desperate she was to touch him, he finally released her. Without hesitation, she grabbed his hoodie and yanked it off of his torso. “You’re such an ass…” She smiled. “Why’s that?” He chuckled, allowing her to remove his shirt. “Making me all heated like that… Shame on you. Especially when you’re not breaking a sweat.” She teased, running her hands through his hair again. He grinned. “That was the aim.” Niall kissed her neck, pushing her back down onto the sofa. He shifted himself so that his hips nestled between hers. His hand rubbed her wetted underwear, being sure to stroke around her core, driving her insane. She pulled at his hair. “Niall please… please…” She begged, pressing her head back into the cusion. He laughed, and slid down her small body until his head was between her thighs. She was beautifully curved, with the perfect amount of weight on her hips and legs. “God you’re hot…” He said against her. She moaned and lifted her hips impatiently, unable to find any other words. “Niall please… Oh my God…” She pleaded with him, her eyes closed tightly. Niall removed her underwear, leaving her completely naked. He took in her beautiful form for a moment before kissing gently around her womanhood. He dipped his tongue into her and licked slowly at first, making it so that he covered her entire entrance. “Ah! Mmh!” (Y/n) bit down harshly on her lip as she felt Pyro slip a finger into her. The sudden pleasure made her head spin. As he began to pump his hand into her, he lifted himself back over her, and pressed their lips together. She moaned against him, unable to speak. His pace quickened a bit, pushing her closer to her peak. “Oh my God… Oh my God… Niall! Niall! I’m gonna cum…” She began to moan with a ferocity. He went harder until stopping suddenly, leaving her gasping. She struggled to keep her breath steady, only able to question him by biting at his lips. He smiled. “I’ve never seen you like this… I love it.” He said. “So vulnerable.” “Sh… Shut up… Asshole…” She sighed out heavily, and pushed her hips into his. He stood up to remove his pants and boxers, revealing his bare erection. (Y/n) gasped inwardly at his size. He was bigger than she had expected. Sitting up, she reached out and took him in her hand, leaning forward to place her lips around him, but she was stopped by a hand on her chin. Niall pulled her eyes to his. “Not now… I can’t wait any longer.” He spoke gruffly. She nodded and lay back down, watching as he pushed himself between her legs once again. She rutted her hips upward, rubbing her core against his length. He groaned and took a sharp breath at the sensation. “Oohh fuck…” He growled and stroked himself against her wet lips. “Please Niall…” She begged again gripping the couch. With a painfully slow action, he began to press his head into her tight entrance. Her muscles tensed around him as he pushed in inch by inch. “Holy shit, (Y/n)…” He gasped, and looked up into her bright (e/c) eyes. His breath quickened abruptly as she bucked her hips into him. His lip curled slightly as he tried his hardest not to slam into her. His teeth dug into her shoulder, both of them beginning to pick up their pace. Her nails dug into his shoulders. Their bodies rocked together with a mix of skin against skin and horny moans. He thrust into her with a frustrated strength, pressing her into the couch with each movement. “Oohh fuck… fuck… (Y/n)…” His groans grew more feverish as he got closer and closer to his release. “Mhm! Shit! Niall!” She moaned out, rocking her hips along with his, pushing his full length into her. “I’m cumming! Niall!” “Me… too…” Niall gasped, his thrusts growing quicker and more ravenous. Her moans filled his apartment as she began to climax. Niall put a hand over her mouth and muffled her screams. He pushed her to her release before pulling out and stroking himself to his own. He came on her stomach, breathing heavily. All the muscles in his body flexed. “Fuck!” He snarled.

(Y/n) stared up at Niall with tired eyes, and smiled. “You ass.” She sat up and smacked him on the chest. He grinned back and stood to grab a towel to help her clean off. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He snarked. “No you’re not.” She giggled, kissing his shoulder as he wiped her stomach clean. “You’re right, I’m not.” Niall winked and kissed her passionately. She lay back down on the couch and picked his hoodie off the floor to cover herself with. He returned to see her half asleep in his jacket. With a soft smile, he lay down next to her and pulled her to his chest. She grinned in return and snuggled closer. Just as they both got comfortable, the oven let out a loud beep, signaling that their food was done. Niall grumbled, and tightened his grip around (Y/n). “Hey, they were your idea…” She mumbled into his chest. “You’re the one who’s hungry.” He refuted. “Go check the damn oven.” “Fine… But I’m not happy about it.” He sighed and got up from the couch. “Love you.” “Whatever.”

[creativitytoexplore]

What would you do on impulse? https://ift.tt/2SYthjG

"No, fuck you dad!" I bellowed as I stormed out of the room. I was fervid, blood was coursing madly through my veins. My ears felt like burning charcoals, and I was shaking. Enough of this bullshit. One last thing before I get out of this hell-hole.

I put a mysterious sticker containing a smiley face on it on my tongue and patted my pocket to check if my Pixiu was there. My Jade Pixiu was a personal totem of mine. I made it right after I watched 'Inception', (That was a hell of a movie by the way.) It was a Chinese feng-shui thing - A flying lion whose unruly behavior caused the Jade Emperor to slap its butt so hard its butthole got sealed. Not kidding.

The Pixiu was chipped from when I dropped it on the floor, not accidentally. Only I know the exact position and texture of the chipped part. If I was in a dream, the Pixiu would not be chipped, and hence I will know that I was in a dream.

I grabbed my dad's car keys on impulse and go out of the house. I didn't tell my father that I had his keys. I snickered. I got down the stairs, unlocked the car, and got into it.

It was nighttime. We lived in a very busy colony, so the night air was filled with the sounds from the street. I drove my car all the way down to the beach, I don't know how I did it - I was on autopilot.

I stopped at the beach to gaze at nature and chill a bit. The air hung heavy and tasted of salt. It was a dark and desolate place, that beach. You see, it was located a good distance away from the hustle and bustle of the city. So I was all on my own.

By now, the LSD I had taken had started to kick in. It made everything all the more surreal to me. I laid back, taking in the beauty of my surroundings. I always had loved the sea, I sought refuge in it whenever I felt sad or angry or lonely. Something about the raging waves crashing against each other, spewing spouts of brine and mist and foam, calmed my soul.

It was quite eerie. Not a soul around me, and my surroundings were barely visible. Civilization was miles away, and I was surrounded by the dense canopy of a nearby forest. All of a sudden, my headlights dimmed. I was confused.

Were my eyes playing tricks on me?

Right then, my phone beeped an unusual beep. I received a message from 'ma'am'. I didn't know who it was, and I don't remember having any contact named 'ma'am'. Weird.

The message contained a video. I clicked on it.

Wrong Click.

It was a strange video in which a lady was in a dark forest. All around her were animals with glowing yellow eyes. They were growling and circling menacingly around her. They made weird hisses and radiated a kind of darkness. The night seemed to grow darker around them as if that is even possible. Chills tingled down my spine.

Who the fuck would send me this strange video at this ungodly hour?

It was very queer. After watching the video, I felt the effects of LSD multiply manifold. Was it my imagination? I had to clutch my seat hard and brace myself.

At that moment, I received the shock of my life. My car lurched forward and launched itself into a 360-degree spin. It was spinning wildly and I had no control. I realized in horror that my hands were glued to the wheel, and I was the one who was doing it. I tried to wrench my hands off the steering in vain. My hands seemed to clasp at dear life the way they didn't let go off the wheel.

I looked around and was stupefied. The glowing yellow eyes were around me again, this time I could see it was a dog. Or two. Weirdly, my body released tons of adrenaline upon the sight of these dogs. I have to admit, they looked very scary, but how come my body knew to release a fucking chemical on its own? (Don't blame me, I was on LSD. I forgot that this was what the body does in face of danger).

Suddenly I remember that all the windows were down and our car was open back. Imagine my reaction.

Luckily right then I regained back control of my arms. Creepy. But I didn't complain, I raced my car down the road... only to find out I forgot how to drive. This time I couldn't take my foot off the accelerator, and boy oh boy was I in for the ride of my life. My car raced down the beach with increasing speed, at a level of rashness and recklessness that would make F1 racers proud.

I had yet another reason to worry- the car was going a slightly crooked angle to the left. This meant it was going straight into the beach. To my doom.

This thought gave me renewed strength and I was able to turn my car around. I tugged at my wheel hard and managed to turn it around and slowed down.

I stopped for a second and got out instead of racing back home. Yeah, I did that. I howled into the deep, dark Nyx, "Fuck you dogs! FUCK YOU. Fuck you, world!" This was actually why I came to the beach in the first place, to vent out my anger by shouting out loud.

I took my Pixiu out and checked for the chipped part. It was there. This wasn't a dream. Oh, well.

I looked around. I saw those darned dogs - more of them. It seems they were at a distance, fighting their life out. Wrong move to stop the car, indeed.

Okay, enough time-pass, time to go home I thought. As I turned to go to my car, I saw that the huge dogs were sprinting towards me with vengeance in their glowing yellow eyes, and drooling mouths with intimidating fangs. I raced to my seat and tried to drive back.

The car wouldn't start.

What timing, I thought. I got out and pushed my car. It was an upward slope, woe me. I pushed with all my might and made it to the summit and the car started going down. Frighteningly fast so.

I somehow ran and clung to the car, and got in from the back. I sat in my seat. The car was out of control. I couldn't find the goddamned brake, and the car was gaining momentum.

I swerved left and right, here and there, in a blur of fierce dogs, unforgiving car metal, and my adrenaline. A while passed.

After what seemed like an eternity, I got rid of the canines at my tail. Now the last straw was I still couldn't find the goddamned brake.

The car went headfirst down a very steep slope, and I knew I had entered the city, for the unmistakable sounds of the town and people talking with each other hung in the gloomy air. I needed to take a left and swerved hard, a little too hard maybe. For I had just missed a lady with inches.

I regained control of my brakes again, Thank God. And I made my way home.

I reached home and waited at the doorstep, ready to apologize to my dad and promise him that I won't be a dick again. I took a deep breath and calmed myself down. I was filled with gratitude, for living, for being back home. sigh. I can decide whether what happened was a dream or not later.

I barged in. The walls were a different color, there were different couches, different things. Some people in the living room saw me in my disheveled state and started screaming. I cried out "sorry" and slammed the door shut. It was my home, no doubt. The same number, the same floor, the same building. But then again, it was not the same home. Everything, every fucking thing was changed inside.

No, something was very wrong with me, I thought. I looked down and realized that I have changed. I had a full beard, I was tall and fully grown. And my voice was deep and different when I said sorry.

You know what the strange thing is? I was fucking 16 when I started on my little adventure.

.

.

Months passed as I learned to embrace my new self. I have a girlfriend living with me in an apartment now. Her name is Christy. She is older than me, and we are deep in love. I am glad that I am still alive and somehow put my life back together.

I still remember the incident with vivid clarity, how it made time jump 7 years into the future for me. I started to believe it was all a dream. To be honest, my older childhood was slipping away from my memory. I have these weird moments where I could recollect specific moments and incidents of another guy's life and childhood, probably my new self's.

But I still remember my old parents, and how they looked, and how they treated me. God bless them.

But anyway, I was hungry and went into the kitchen. I and my girlfriend take turn cooking, and today she was cooking something emitting a very pleasing smell, indeed.

Suddenly, I felt like I was on LSD once again. I don't know what got over me. On impulse, I lifted Christy's skirt and stuck my hand deep into her warm, wet, hairy buttcrack.

.

.

~ CallMeDirus

submitted by /u/CallMeDirus [link] [comments]

[apsbicepstraining]

5 Harsh Truths That Will Make You Less Of A Jerk

Humanity is principally defined by its is no way to seize the obvious. So, let me ask you this TAGEND

What is the most obviously wrong shit that beings feel on a daily basis that — wait for it — you too believe ?

I’m talking about something that you know on an intellectual level is incorrect, but five minutes after being reminded of it, you forget again. If you can’t think about one, well, I gamble I can. And it comes back to burn you in the proverbial ass method more frequently than you think …

# 5. We Are Privately Sure Everyone Feels The Same Pleasure And Pain

When you’re a toddler, you acquire everyone and everything in your world are similar to you. That’s why you used to think your thrust animals get lonely if you didn’t play with them and that your parents would love your cartoons if they would just give them an opportunity. It’s a normal chapter of a kid’s proliferation and as this much smarter guy points out, we never certainly germinate out of it.

I mean, you probably recollect being a boy and hearing an amazing new song that shaped you want to punch-dance through a brick wall … and then you played it for a couple sidekicks and they just got that gross look on their faces. You know, the watch of nervously pretending to enjoy something loathsome? What follows is more awkward three minutes of your life, during which you find yourself going steadily angrier( “Why are they claiming not to like it? ” ). But eventually, you grow up and realize that not everyone likes the same things.

Years afterwards, you get the flu but ability through production anyway, rather than miss season. Then, a co-worker catches it and takes three sick daytimes. You roll your eyes and announce him a pussy, automatically assuming that the two of you two are find exactly the same indications, but that one of you was tougher.

The obvious concept you’ll be missing is that standing is at least as subjective as music. Hell, discipline even is indicated that redheads tend to feel more ache than everyone else, due to a genetic quirk. It appears that it’s the same for women, due to how pain signals are communicated to the girl intelligence. Meanwhile, people from colder parts of the world literally stop feeling the cold the method the rest of us do. Some beings almost never appear fear — not due to firmnes, but due to a collapse of certain types of contacts in the intelligence( they’re called sociopaths ). All of the hotshots that motivate us to haunt specific actions and avoid others actually feel totally different from person to person.

She can snow angel for hours on end, but needs an ER trip and three months of rehab after a snowball engage .

You’ll shrug and say, “Of course, everyone known to be, you turdthinker, ” but five minutes after reading such articles, you’ll act in a way that substantiates you don’t. I’ve had fit acquaintances get annoyed with me when I say I’ve never experienced the “runner’s high” euphoria that comes with hard exercise. They say it’s because I’m not pushing myself hard enough, while science says some people are just physically incapable of appearing it. So, are my friends fit because they’re more dedicated than I am, or do they just enjoy the “high” of employ? They clearly want the former to be true. My thin acquaintances don’t like to admit that there’s a hormone that moves you starving and that some people simply have more of it.

That’s because formerly you accept the idea that it rightfully would feel completely different to live inside another person’s form, everything changes. After all, at what point can you safely accuse person for, well, anything?

# 4. We Don’t Realize The Battle Inside

I know what you’re saying. I ever know. “Oh, so you’re one of those buttholes who say nothing is anybody’s blame, because those poor souls are helpless to refuse their caprices? So, when somebody tortures a child to fatality, we’re supposed to give him a hug and say he couldn’t used to help? Is that it, butthole? You are the hole of a butt.”

No! You altogether are defined by how good of a position you do opposing your pernicious exhorts and overcoming hurting. Maturation is an issue of getting better at it; success is an issue of mastering it. Beating back the urge to procrastinate, to cease, to be lazy … that’s how you reach the top, child! Buy my notebook !

But …

You know that person at the part who’s ever furious? He blew up last month because soul lost an invoice. Last Christmas, he lost his shit because he thought somebody stole his lunch out of the fridge. You check him throw his outbursts and marvel at how immature he is. After all, you get angry, very, but you ensure it! Hell, you’ve had people plagiarize your lunch tons of periods, and you’ve never kicked a trashcan so difficult that it left a dent and realise the secretary cry.

Sure, you’ve fantasized about shitting in the culprit’s yogurt and blaming it on the apprentice, but you’ve never actually done it .

However, here’s the thing: From your outcome, he’s “always” angry. From his culminate, he’s had two blowups spread across several months and, in between those incidents, he successfully resisted the recommend to explode 162 experiences . His anger urges come more frequently than yours, and he experiences them more strongly. For him, every “normal” day is the result of a hard-won duel … but, you merely see when he loses. He find himself as the hero of his own life, battered and bruised by his personal demons. You envision him as a ridiculous manchild who loves to discover himself yell. You detest his unstable, feelings ass.

Or, you witness the space your depressed sidekick goes residence from operate and immediately clangs on the sofa, refusing to go out or do anything recreation. You dislike the acces she merely … affords up and refuses to even talking here it. Invisible to you is the merciless attempt she exerted precisely to make it through wreak. So, you get annoyed. Or, you find your marriage “feel like i m cheating on” you. You didn’t investigate all of the dozens of hours he had the exhort and fought. You merely encounter the moment he lastly demonstrated in. And you want to fucking kill him for it.

Basically half of all country music jobs are started this way .

And because you exclusively established up in the consequences of the these combats, they believe your grumbles to be the equivalent of some bureaucrats intimidating Arnold Schwarzenegger’s character after the events of Predator . “Why did you blow up a whole jungle, asshole? Your whole gang is dead, and it’s your flaw! No, I don’t want to hear your apologizes! Whose arm is this? “

“Fuck the chopper, your ass is getting to the unemployment path! ”

# 3. … But We’ll Usually Forgive Ourselves For The Same Failure

Here’s a question I bet you’ve never stopped to ask: Why is it an insult to allege officers of adoration doughnuts? Or to joke about how black people affection fried chicken or watermelon?

And simply clearly stated, those are reviles( in the U.S ., at the least ). If a officer plucks you over and you tell him, “Hey, you know the doughnut shop shuts at 8 p. m ., you better move, ” you know you’re pee-pee him off. If a grey buster moves up to groupings of black people standing on a street corner and says, “What, did somebody sag a barrel of fried chicken? ” he knows he’s trying to start a fight.

One that’ll end with him complaining online that nobody but him has a sense of humor anymore . But, why is it an offend? It’s not like the behaviour itself is vile — right now, there’s some grey buster sitting in a Popeyes Chicken restaurant snickering to his friends because a group of pitch-black guys trodden in. “Ha, how did I know they’d be here! I potted they’d rioting if this neighbourhood closed down! ” — literally taunting their desire of fried chicken through a sip of fried chicken. Well, what you’re find is a ritual we all go through in order to reassure ourselves. “Theres” two steps to it TAGEND

For the first, imagine a group of friends sitting around and sharing embarrassing fibs. As many of you know, during filming of the TV present Nashville , I was accidentally captured in the backdrop of a shot urinating into a fountain. So, I will tell that storey among friends, because I know someone else will immediately try to top it( “One age, ” says John, “I was pissing in the lavatory during a White House tour, and the president strolled in and I inadvertently turned around and pissed on him! I think some of it got in his lip! ” ). The aim is to reassure each other that our lives are screwed up in exactly the same way.

“For the record, John wholly plagiarized that storey from me.”

But, then comes the second largest part of the ritual, in which we’ll jest at somebody else’s screw-ups in a completely unforgiving and mean-spirited room, strictly to reassure ourselves that their failures aren’t like ours. “My family went to India a couple of years ago. All of the streets reek like piss! Merely a disgusting people — they’re like swine! “

This is why I invested my first got a couple of decades of life stimulating gay laughs with my small-town peers. For a cluster of guys scared of what their hormones were doing to them( “they can never know I jerked off to a Sports Illustrated article about beach volleyball! ” ), it was very reassuring to sit around and say, “Man, are you able dream going turned on by buster laughingstock ? ” It’s the same reason we would laugh at a friend’s messy copulation legends( “So, then I wake up and roll over — I’m like, I don’t even know this chick! She looked like fucking Richard Belzer! “) and then immediately talking here what worthless sluts those cheerleaders are. The theme? Our uncontrollable compulsions are lighthearted recreation, theirs are a signaling of weakness and degeneracy.

“Can you believe Richard Belzer just takes these pics that guys like us is likely to be masturbate to? God, what a Hollywood closet case.”

Thus, the “fried chicken” gags. The consequence is that, where my consumption of deep-fried chicken is just a ordinary buster gobbling an incredibly favourite American bowl, their uptake is due to a atrocious cultural failure to control their pushes. It shifts them into cartoonish gluttons, with no more self-control than pups. It’s the same reason my high school gay parodies often implied that homosexuals are ravenous rapists who can’t control their immorality( “When you’re in the cupboard chamber with Kevin, don’t deflect over for the soap! ” ).

But, in addition to causing us to be dicks to other people, this double standard too symbolizes …

# 2. You’re Constantly Getting Blindsided By Your Own Weaknesses

There’s this thing everybody does the first time they have to sit down and write up a budget. They’ll plan everything down to the penny — the really smart ones will even set aside some fund for disaster gondola restores and those sorts of things. But, they are able to also completely fail to plan for one important category TAGEND

Fucking up.

I’m talking about the weekend when you’re so depressed that you only buy a shitload of day-old grocery store donuts and eat all of them yourself. I’m talking about the eBay auction you acquire thanks to a drunken late-night offer, or the expensive talent bought for a special a person who has you detect doesn’t looks just like you back, or the dumb impulse buys you’ll inevitably become when you’re get over the breakup and want some kind of shining spot in their own lives( maybe it’ll be a puppy next time !).

“I’m not going to name you, so I’ll feel less guilty when you have to be returned.”

“Well, I precisely won’t do those happenings, ” you’ll say, “now that I have a fund! ” See, Future You goes tagged with the same ludicrous belief we make about strangers: All motivations can easily be overcome with a little effort. Future You won’t oblige dumb purchases to deaden desolate moods! That shit is what Old You did — from here on out, it’s smooth sailing!

And when you start dating mortal new, you never envisage, “This will be a good person to handle my alternating irritation outbursts and emotional cold spells six months after now! ” You’ll instead suppose yourself being awesome and stable, eternally. And when job opportunities comes up to take on a second place, one that would eliminate both sleep and your social life? “No problem! Future Me doesn’t get sleepy or lonely! Future Me is a robot that works with absolute precision and reliability! “

“Ho Hos from the vending machine are the only Christmas dinner I need tonight.”

Oh, sure, there are parties out there who run the opposite room, who joke about how they’re precisely a loser destined to wind up old and drunkard. But, frequently, the precise reasonablenes they’re down is because they’re repeatedly disappointed by how they screw up in the same roads again and again. Their own weaknesses continue to astonish them, since they are refuse to be realistic about how strong the desires are by comparison. Here’s a relevant time for those of you who want a brief YouTube snap TAGEND

It’s hard-handed, if not impossible, to make peace with the fact that we are always going to fuck up on occasion. And, at health risks of going taken out of situation, I’ve got to say that this has really facilitated me realize Satan.

That concept of a tempter who can work from inside your very mind, offering up short-term gratifications in exchange for long-term destruction … it prepares feel. I don’t mean as a literal being, but as a course to facilitate step outside yourself in those critical time. You get an urge and you stop to say, “Is this the devil, tempting me? ” It realise you suspicious of your short-term indulgings — the starvation, the rage, the selfishness — all that shit that will devastates your relationships and health in the long run. When someone else screws up, you can see them as a fellow casualty of the Dark Lord himself, deserving of sympathy.

But, you know, there’s a intellect Christians still cheat on their spouses and booze themselves to fatality. All they were required to do is change the focus to other people and keep it there( “Gays are just heterosexuals who’ve been invited into sin by the Devil! ” ). Hey, be talking about which …

# 1. We Give Clueless, Bullshit Solutions … And Then Get Angry When They Don’t Work

That last thing is probably the most perfect portrait of what I’m talking about in this article. Why do Christians seem so obsessed with homosexuality? Why have they decided lesbian marriage is the one issue capable of exterminating the light of the righteous from the universe eternally?

Because it’s the ultimate exam of the “Everyone knows the same temptations” fallacy.

If you sit down a cluster of anxious and tired people and start proclaiming to them about their fragilities( desire, gluttony, petty savagery, adultery ), you get lots of vexed folks altering uncomfortably in the pews. But, when you take that same mob and preach against lures they never find, if you rail against the “gay agenda” and Muslims and the depravity of Hollywood, now you get some ovations and “Amens” flowing your room. “Let us all congratulate ourselves for not succumbing to the push to change our sexual orientation or transformed into Islam! We are truly badass fighters of goodnes! “

“Like Jesus before me, I genuinely have the eye of the beast! ”

And obligate no mistake, having grown up in an evangelical church, up until my 20 s I knew exactly how to solve the lesbian wedding act: Simply give them the same rights as everyone else. And by that, I signify the right to marry the opposite fornication. I swear it built appreciation at the time and, because you presumably did not just start reading the clause right here, you already know why. Everyone, I was told, is actually a heterosexual — God said so. Thus, “gay” people simply have a funny fetish for the same fornication that they can get over with a bit tradition. If you’d told me that my homophobia was itself the result of my own bad caprices( including an overdeveloped gumption of disgust that’s common to social reactionaries ), I’d have gazed at you like you’d precisely puckered your cheeks and realized one steady fart noise. ” My behavior isn’t due to uncontrollable impulses! I’m a fully functional human being, with a person, who constitutes moral selects! “

And if you’d told me that not only is what they’re doing not immoral, but that if I swopped organizations with them, I’d be just as gay , if not more so? Hopeless. For me, at the time, the implications would have been shattering.

You’d have gotten a similar mind from me considering anyone outside my own group, in fact. If you’d driven me through the projects, I’d have calmly explained that if I was born there, I’d get a part-time job, save up some money, and move the hell out! I stepped around every day patting myself on the back for overcoming counsels I didn’t even detect, to make myself feel right about the ones I was giving in to on a daily basis. My years of asshole know-how are probably why I’m so fascinated with the Internet’s fat-hating obsession today. I return it up a lot, and it’s because each time some clueless 20 time old-fashioned says, “Losing weight is simple: It’s calories in, calories out! All you need is a little self-respect! ” I smile and nod and think, “Yep, that was me! I thought that same condescending bullshit! “

Spoiler: I was incorrect .

But, I attest that even experts acquire the same damned mistake, and always will. Pick any theme. Like the obesity stuff — we’ll listen a new possibility every month about whether fighting obesity is about cutting carbs, or paunch, or sugar, or precisely dismissing it all and cutting calories. They rarely seem to factor in the only thing that really subjects: which diet doesn’t leave you starving. Because if you’re getting pummeled with emptines insists, you will succumb. This is why exercise doesn’t induce you lose weight — exercise ignites calories but also clears you hungrier. And exactly 100 percentage of humans have a doorstep at which they no longer have the force to repel an exhort. I don’t care who you are — if the president himself got thirsty enough, he’d be begging John to pee-pee in his lip. It’s science.

It would also be a great style to choose who in the field really wants to be president .

Or what about violation? Statistically, if you grew up under certain circumstances, you’re far more likely to turn into war criminals. Now, cue the anecdotes: “Well, I grew up in the rough part of city, and I never so much as got a rushing ticket! ” See, because their impulse to commit crimes is surely no more powerful than ours, and our clean register is, hence, proof that we’re Gandhi. So, why lift a finger to improve those Ferguson “thugs” change “peoples lives”? None helped us! Better to retain a handgun under the couch and imagine about filming them when they break in.

“Well now, wait a second, ” you say, “that simply draws us back to the blame question that “youve never” got around to reacting. If we can’t genuinely know how hard individual pushed the motive to do the shitty happening he only did, then how do we know when it’s okay to call him an asshole ? “

Hmmm. Good subject. Here’s someone babying a minuscule owl.

The post 5 Harsh Truths That Will Make You Less Of A Jerk appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[asianmasterberlin]

2017-12-12

A few weeks ago, it was the slave’s birthday. So his master told him to be ready that day for meeting and receiving his present. That made the slave so curious and happy, but at the same time, he was so thankful to his master that he had thought about that day. And he almost couldn’t wait. But he knew, it would be his task learning being patiently. So he wanted to wait till this day.

But two days before he was attending an event in the evening, had a few wine and when he left, he texted his master telling him how much he would miss him. Luckily, the master replied and in that moment, the slave wanted to serve his master, wanted to please him to thank him. So he mentioned, he would be half on the way already, even he was already on the train on his way home. So his master was very kind and told him, he might come over, if he wants. But the slave was not sure, if he should turn around or better not bother his master. He asked again and the master replied a very clear „Come over!“  As he has learned, the slave immediately changed the train heading to his master’s house. He needed some training, and with that message he became even more submissive. So he told his master, he would need a hard hand and a strong training as well. His master just replied: „Come over!“

On the way he hated the train going so slowly, but finally he rang the bell and waited the head down in front of his masters door. His master opened the door and acted very casual, welcoming him as a friend, asking him entering the apartment. The slave took off his shoes and the master started to kiss him, friendly but also very much making clear he is totally in charge of everything.  The slave was in the moment willing to do everything, these kisses always put him to his role, the slave and servant. He had imagined, his master would command him once getting undressed in the hallway and waiting like this on his knees and hands like a dog until he would put the collar and leash around. But his master had decided to start differently. Then the master took his slave to the living room, where he took a seat on the sofa, spreading his legs and showing the slave getting on his knees in front of him. If he knew, how hot this view was, how much the slave would love it. So the master kissed him again and pushed his head to his pants. He took the jeans off and the slave had to kiss the underwear, feeling his master’s dick growing. Then the master lifted his underwear, but told his slave he would be only allowed to have a look, to enjoy the master’s dick only with his eyes. It was beautiful, he saw that hard dick , the pubic hair he loves so much, and he was completely downgraded as his master’s dick slave. On the other hand, it was torture, he wanted this dick so much, he was greedy to suck it, but his master was holding his head in a distance, enjoying his slave’s desperate greediness. Finally, after a long time the slave had the feeling, he took the slave’s head and pushed it on his dick, enjoying the deep pleasure he could hear from his slave breathing and moaning who was now a slave fully turned into a dick slave.

After he had enjoyed his slave serving him, he pushed the head away and told him to get undress, but staying on his knees. The slave, without an own will, was doing it immediately, just being able to ask if completely or leaving the underwear on. But his master had decided to give him a hard hand by not allowing him being too slutty at once, so he told him to keep his underwear on. The slave did how he was told and now he got the collar and the leash, the setting he was used as a slave. So undressed and collared the slave had to continue his job and the master just enjoyed  now the possibility to squeeze the slave’s nipples, knowing he can turn the slave completely into his toy. And he kissed him from time to time and this relation, he on the sofa, his slave on his knees on the floor, he above his slave kissing him, made a very nice and clear master slave clarification, and very nice scenery.

And he enjoyed it for quite a while, pushing his slaves mouth over his dick, pushing the head away and kissing him, pushing the head back to his dick and holding it with his dick deep inside until he heared the heavy breathing of his slave because of the dick filled mouth and throat.

But then, he stopped briefly, kept his slave’s head down and took something. Something new. The slave just felt his master pulling a neopren mask over his head, no eyes, no nose, just the mouth free. And he first didn’t know what it was. First he thought he would get blindfolded, but step by step he realized, it was a complete mask, even more, because there were no eyes. He felt the mask pressing a bit and he couldn’t see anything. Everything was dark, and that moment he had to face that he was his master’s mouth hole, nothing more, just the hole for the dick. And the master used it, pushing his dick into that hole, fucking it, taking it out, sticking it in again. The slave, who was not used to the mask, failed to find the dick, but his master gave him a direction, a face slap (more face slaps would have been appropriate) and said to him: „My dick, stupid! You should suck my dick!“ The slave always had wished his master would talk more, telling him more clearly with more dirty words what he had to do or wat his place was, so now he gave up his will and followed all commands as just being a hole.

But his master had decided to give him a clear lesson and using the new situation. So he turned him around, to his knees on the sofa and fucked him. Without any fingering or forplay, without asking. That was the slave’s dream and his desire as well as his determination, to be there, to be the one or the other hole for his master’s will. Until now his master always had asked for fucking, but now he just took his slave, without any hesitation. It seemed, the mask made it clear also for the master, there is slave to get fucked, mouth or ass, his meat of pleasure.

And then he fucked the slave, doggy, the slave on his knees on the sofa, the ass up and the master standing behind and fucking and slapping the ass.  And the slave had this mask, he couldn’t see anything, completely darkness, he couldn’t hear clearly, because the mask covered everything. Only his mouth hole was open but right now his master used the butthole. That was all he could perceive, his master fucking his ass. And his master fucked him so hard and ramming his dick deep inside, taking it out and ramming it deep into the hole again. All he could feel was this fucking dick and the slave moaned so loud in this mixture of pain and joy, totally forgetting about the neighbours.

Then the master turned him around, put him on the back on the sofa and continued fucking in this position, even harder now, spreading the legs to have this open hole he could fuck into as deep as possible.

After a long time, the slave had lost any feeling for time and place, the master went to his bed, he took the slave, still willingles because of this everything covering mask, with him and now the slave had to continue his job with his other hole, sucking his master to the final pleasure. But his master decided to show him again, that all this mask hast left was a hole to fuck into. And he guided that fuck hole head, slapping it and bringing it to the right position.

Now the master was almost ready, he jerked his dick a few times in front of the slave’s head, who couldn’t do anything, but meanwhile he got used to that mask that he could feel his master jerking in front of his face. He had to wait and be ready, but last time his master had decided not to give him his cum, so he didn’t know this time, what will happen. But that moment the master was due to come, he pushed that masked hole on his dick and pumped everything into his slave’s mouth. The slave was so happy, his master was so kind and he was thankful to give his master that pleasure. But the master didn’t took his hand from the slave’s head, he kept this mouth on the dick for so long, until the last drop was out of his dick and in his slave’s mouth.

Then he pushed him a bit beside but held his slave in his arms, giving him a feeling of  comfort and security.

The slave was happy, that was much more than he has hoped, the gift and the use of the gift, just incredible. So when his master asked if he wants to cum, he just could say no, feeling that he already got so much and that it would be not appropriate to come back to an own will so soon after his master had turned him into two holes.

So they fell asleep, arm in arm.

The next morning his master offered him to take the mask, because it would be his birthday present, but after last night all the slave could say, was „Thank you so much, but i guess, it is better you keep it, in case you wanna use it again.“

Hopefully his master will do so, as well as he hopefully  will once order him to get undressed in the hallway and wait as his dog and hopefully his master will have at a certain time a new gift and will use it.

Master: That was a good training for him. The slave was super loud. Deserve more face slaps. That was fun with mask. He lost his senses but relied on his master to slap him to guide.

[bigcheeksandabigheart]

[Jay’s] Happy Anniversary (proof read just a lil)

Title: Let’s Give It A Try

Characters

Jay (20)

Jinri (20)

Summary: Best bros to decent lovers(?)

If Jay literally felt himself beam at the sight of Jinri huddled up next to a bookshelf of fiction novels, he keeps it to himself as he makes his way towards her with quiet steps. The corner of his lips twitch in excitement as he slots himself behind her, sliding a hand up against the bookshelf, before leaning down to whisper creepily into her ear, “Hey virgin.”

In shock, Jinri jumps in her place, almost knocking her head on Jay’s chin while letting out a loud shriek that earned them a glare or two from students around them. Jay snickers quietly behind his hand as he looks over his shoulder to meet eyes with one of the younger librarians (he’s been kicked out quite a few times already for being too loud). Before he can turn his head back around, she punches him right on the chest and if it does hurt him, he doesn’t express it. “Don’t do that you butthole!” she yelled at him in a hushed whisper. “I was just getting into the intense part of the novel, damn you!”

Jay grabs the book from her hand and looks at the cover with his eyebrows furrowed. “Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress…” Jay’s voice trails off before his eyes widen in amusement, “hey isn’t this shit the one where he fucks a girl against the tree–why are you rereading this? Pervert!”

“Stop being such an ass hat!” Jinri pushes him by the chest and takes the book away, Jay only chuckles more. With a click of her tongue, she walks off farther into the aisles of bookshelves, Jay following obediently behind her. Her fingers, run through the spines of the books as she walks by them and Jay only holds his backpack straps tighter. “Oh, shoot, how was last night by the way? Heard you didn’t come home until the afternoon after.”

“Maybe if you came, you would have known what happened, hermit,” Jay retorted with an unneeded snort, Jinri huffs bitterly. “Maybe you should stop focusing on those stupid shows and start going out more often.”

“Maybe mind your own damn business,” Jinri looks over her shoulder to glare at him before turning away with a huff. Jay laughs to himself as she leads him into her booked study room in the library. He immediately takes his backpack off the moment he slithers inside and flops down on one of the rolling chairs, gently placing his bag on the table after realizing that he has his laptop inside. “I got twenty more minutes in the room.”

Jay just absentmindedly nods while staring at the projector screen, her powerpoint presentation glowing against the white screen. “I accidentally crashed over a girl’s place and overslept,” he finally answers, his attention turning back to her. He tries not to smirk so much when he notices her eyebrows twitching in the middle, or the way she immediately looks away from him and diverts her gaze towards the screen. “She wanted to cuddle.”

“Cuddle? With the Park Jaebum? OH no!” Jinri gasped, dramatic and all. Jay just laughed even louder, leaning against the round table between them. “What’s next? Asking the what-are-we question? Oh my! Oh my!”

“Lame ass,” Jay just comments with an amused smile, head cocking towards the projection. “Okay, enough of my affairs. Present your shit.”

Much like how Jay is during his class, her words slip from one ear and exit out the other. He just pretends to listen whilst analyzing every inch of her features. From the roundness of her face, to the way her bottom lip juts out every time she collects her thoughts, to the way she fidgets when she stutters, to the swell of her hips and the bareness of her thighs, the way her tank top reveals so little for the little things she already possesses and then to her long wavy locks. He just leans his cheek against the palm of his hand as he watches her mouth move for every single syllable muttered until she finishes and just stares at him.

“You need to stop playing with your fingers and quit umm-ing all the time.” If Jay is good at anything in life, besides his fast rising social circle and his skills in video games, its presentations. Which only correlates to his mastery in bullshittery. It’s not that hard to pretend to be enthusiastic in something, if he can do it whenever a person of target makes conversations, presentations is nothing. “And stand up straight, you look like a humpback whale.”

“I will shove my foot so far up your ass!”

“Yes daddy~””

***

“Which one do you want? I can hook you up,” Jay quirks his eyebrows suggestively towards the now blonde. Jinri sighs in exhaustion, drink in her hand (her first after 3 hours into the party). Unlike their circle of friends, Jinri seems to be the only one who never goes all out in parties, only seemingly tagging along in the sidelines, much like how Jay met her two years ago. Which, by the way, is very contradicting to the way he had initially thought of her. He almost wants to laugh whenever he thinks about the time Jinri offered smoking weed with him when she had barely touched a blunt in her whole entire life. And then Jay invited her to go partying, and suddenly she was shy around people. Though, Jay couldn’t say shit, he wasn’t as lit as Jinri had assumed him to be. For fuck sakes, he bitched over the color of his skin and his burdens on fake tans.

“I told you, I don’t like one night stands!” Jinri yells over the music and Jay just blinks at her.

“Right, the whole sex is only for the person you truly love,” Jay rolls his eyes, the tone on his voice quite sarcastic which only earns him a hit on the chest. He shakes his head at the thought. Sex with a stranger versus sex with someone you love always falls in the same spectrum of pleasure anyways: sex. It’s just one organ going into another that makes life worth it. “Ridiculous.”

“YAh! If I support your sex with everyone that walks, then support mine,” Jinri takes a sip from her beer (the best one Jay can find in this damn party) and her face scrunches up right after. “You’re proud to be a whore, and I am proud to fuck anyone I love.”

“You love me?” Jay flirts like it’s his second nature and Jinri turns redder than she already is. He just laughs louder and takes a huge sip from his drink, reaching over to pinch her heating cheeks. “You know ugly, you’re not that bad.”

“What is that suppose to mean!?”

“Blah,” he sticks his tongue out and turns around to walk off, leaving Jinri to fend for herself.

***

“It’s not that I’m against relationships, you know?” Jay explains himself as they both lay down on the grass, staring up at the night sky above them. Resting his head on his bent arm, he turns his head to look at her as she lays next to him with her knees propped up, hands on her belly. “It’s just that I’m picky, you know what I mean?”

“Hmm,” Jinri just nods nonchalantly, quieter than usual, a sign that she’s genuinely listening to him. It’s not often they have meaningful discussions about himself, in fact, they barely talk about him. That’s what makes them different. Jinri speaks her mind, every troubles and every worries, even things that makes her happy. She’s an open book about it, and it’s not because it’s the way she is, it’s because it’s the way Jay is. It’s damn easy for Jay to look for signs, read into things many don’t usually pay attention to, and Jinri just so happens to show her emotions through her words and actions. But for Jay, it’s not necessarily easy for him to say certain things about himself. He’s neither comfortable or fond of sharing his troubles, insisting that it’s easier to fix it himself than burdening others with it. But sometimes, it just comes out with her. “What do you look for then?”

“In a lover?” Jay looks up momentarily to think of an answer and hums. “Well for instance, I want them to be someone who’s chill. Easy going, you know?” Jay starts, looking down and gazing over to her fingers drumming against her stomach. “Someone who I can talk to as a friend and laugh at everything with. A person who isn’t afraid to express themselves and wouldn’t shy away from me. Like, I want them to talk to me but not too much when it’s too overbearing. And! Someone who doesn’t cling too much, someone who’s constantly trying to grab all my time, I hate those.”

Jinri turns to look at him with a longing gaze.

“And someone who won’t lock me down and hold me back–someone I can basically laugh and grow with together. Someone who tries to understand me, and not change me. I want a best friend.”

“You’re asking for someone who’s too perfect,” Jinri mumbles.

“I’m just asking someone to accept me for who I am and make me happy,” Jay concludes as he picks on the grass. Silence surrounding them as Jinri just stares at him, and for the first time in awhile, Jay isn’t able to read her expression. Not sure of what her stare means, or if it’s disapproval when she bites her lips together in a thin line.

“You’ll find him or her soon…hey maybe it’s him,” Jinri raises an eyebrow and Jay groans, rubbing his face with his hand, forgetting the fact that he’s been touching the grass with it.

“I don’t think so. He’s too overbearing and it’s not fun…he spoils me you know? And I need someone who can tell me to back off or slow down,” he shakes his head.

“You’re really asking for someone who doesn’t exist.”

“They exist!”

***

“I’m so damn tired of being toyed with like this. It’s all fucking bullshit, I swear to hell,” Jay covers his face with his hands, hair dishevelled from too much pulling. He hears Jinri sigh before feeling an arm envelop his sitting form; arms around his waist as she presses herself against his side. Her warmth only slightly making him feel better. “Why does she need to lie to me like this? Like what’s her fucking point?”

“I know Jay, I know, I was shocked too,” Jinri brings his head against his chest, running her fingers through his hair. Jay almost feels bad for burdening her. Tonight was probably going to be her typical night of studying or watching a new drama, but he just decides to barge in her single dorm room and bitch about his life for the past two months. And then be such a little bitch and cry over a girl who Jinri insists doesn’t deserve him, rubbing his back as he sits on her too small of a bed.

“Fuck I know I’m ass, but do I really deserve to be lied to like this?”

“Jay, shut up!” Jinri pinches his side and hisses at him. “As much as you think you’re an ass, you’re not! You’re a great guy, Jay, to me you really are. And she’s just a fucking bitch. She’s a conniving hoe at that too!”

***

As fast as Jay fell for her, he gets over it just faster. And before anyone knows it, his life’s back to being where it was before the whole fiasco. His breakdown is the last of anyone seeing and his ego grows back to life, bigger than before. Back to being everyone’s friend and back to partying and getting his weekly lay. Then hanging out with Jinri as much as they can between Jay’s social leeching tendencies, Jinri’s addiction to shows, and their classes. If Jay was exhausted, Jinri was just as tired as he was.

So it comes to no surprise when Jay wakes up in the middle of the night, almost falling off his bed, feeling a warm body next to him. But unlike most nights, Jay isn’t naked and the person beside him doesn’t seem properly fucked out or drunk. Quietly, he sits up from his bed and grabs his laptop over their heads to place it down on his floor before laying back down, his head hitting his pillow. With careful movements, Jay gently pushes Jinri towards the wall more to give himself space and then throws a blanket over her exposed shoulders.

Within a blink of an eye, Jay wakes the morning after with a warm body literally on top of him, face nuzzling at the crook of his neck. Most times, he would be complaining and finding a way to sneak out of the room, or get a second (third) round, but he just closes his eyes again to try to get more sleep. Though with no avail, Jinri stirs beside him and upon realizing her position, she quickly sits up and gasps. And if Jay peeks at her blushing cheeks with her hand on her beating heart, he keeps it to himself as he tries to collect more hours of sleep before having to get ready for his afternoon class.

“Why was I dreaming of Nazis?”

***

“Jay!” Jinri grabs onto his arm, panting softly after running after him, which receives an eye roll from Jay. He mentally notes down in his head to start taking Jinri to the gym every MWF. “I forgot to tell you about that thing I promised to tell you before you leave.”

“Oh,” Jay briefly remembers her blushing form after promising him something she will reveal only for her to run away from him, excusing herself to being late to class. He looks down at her hands, which haven’t released his arm yet. “What is it? The car’s coming soon.”

“I…” Jinri puffs her cheeks out as she inhales deeply, her grip on his arm getting tighter. “Well I have…things for you.”

“A present?!” Jay beams with a gasp, like a child during his own birthday.

“N-no!” Jinri shakes her head, vehemently. She looks up at him with her doe eyes, a nervous shake in her own two eyes that Jay quickly detects. Her lips keep opening and closing like she’s failing to form actual words. And just like how Jay predicts it the first time around, he slowly awaits her words, expecting exactly what is about to happen.

“You killed my pet goldfish huh? Is that it?” Jay plays along anyways.

“N-no–No! How dare you accuse me of your lack of responsibilities?!” Jinri finally releases his arm and smacks him on the chest. “What I wanted to say is that I like you, you asshole!”

Jay pauses for the sake of dramatic effect before he gasps too comically to actually come off as a real shock. “No way?” Jinri blinks at him. “No really, what’s your big secret?”

“…t-that’s it?”

“But I already know?” Jay blurts out with no remorse to how Jinri is basically about to have a panic attack right before his eyes.

“W-w-what? What do you mean you already know!?”

“I mean you’re not exactly good at keeping secrets,” he smiles and pats her on the head. “Thank you for the confirmation.”

Jinri frowns. “What the fuck?”

“Come on Jinri, I know when someone’s drooling over me,” Jay snorts.

“Fine, whatever, I just wanted to let you know–I mean you don’t have to do anything about it. I don’t expect you to like me back, but I just thought it’s best that you know…like I don’t want to date you or anything! I just had to tell you…for me.”

The car slowly pulls over besides Jay and Jinri and they both look at it like it’s interrupting something so special. “Alright. Even if you were so obvious about it. Have a Merry Christmas, Ri, don’t get your ass freezing yeah?” Jay ruffles her hair before slipping inside the car after the driver places his bags inside his trunk.

***

“What a damn ugly ass cat,” Jay looks at the white cat at the corner of Jinri’s too small of a bed. Almost too immediately, Jinri smacks him across the arm and shoves him against the wall. “Yah!”

“He’s not an ugly cat! He’s my baby, my Hero! He’s an amazing company, okay? And he doesn’t bully me like you.”

“You know when I said you can sign up for a comfort pet, I meant get a dog, not a damn cat,” Jay points out, throwing his hands out towards the cat only to get another shove from the smaller girl.

Much to their surprise, their friendship doesn’t exactly change since Jinri’s confession. Jay comes back to school, sated from his trip back home, and Jinri doesn’t bombard him with pressure. It’s like the confession didn’t even happen, even if Jay purposely brings it up to tease her and Jinri yelling at him that soon enough she’s going to get over him. And just like that it’s already in the middle of March, midterms rolling up soon.

“Oh shit, yeah,” Jinri turns to face him with a quizzical expression. “I started speaking to your boyfriend again, and he’s so in love with you.” See? Nothing changed, very highly disappointing.

“He’s not my boyfriend! Shut up virgin ass.”

***

“I get it Jay, I can’t force you into something you don’t want.”

Jay mindlessly walks around the city around the campus with no destination in mind, taking his time with each stride as thought after thought runs through his head. His fingers shoved into the pockets of his jacket, the tips of each finger wanting to scratch something but not knowing what. He feels so confused and bothered. Things just doesn’t make sense to him. But it feels so wrong, just really wrong. Surely, he did try to feel something more than the need of a companion, a person who can satisfy his lust, and the enjoyment of being treated like he’s sitting on the high throne. But something in himself didn’t feel right. And he knew it from the very beginning. Because the moment he confessed his feelings, he was still unsure of his future, much like many of the people who he had grown accustomed to like.

It was just this time, he was more persistent than most. Showing up more often, saying yes to every command, and pretending to be interested in things he was. But at the same time he’s supportive, it was like he was also trying to imprison him, and rejuvenate him to be someone squeaky clean and it felt so damn wrong to be Jay for who he is. But he fell for it, the lust and the attention, so he stayed and kept quiet of his uneasiness, perhaps desperate for someone to love him, and as much as he cringes at the thought, he couldn’t help but feel the truth from it. Although, he knew he wouldn’t be happy about it in the end.

But what the fuck makes him happy?

Jay was tired of it all, the way faces just passed by without any sense of lingering. It was like he was build to just collect as many faces as much as possible but never let one imprint on him. Maybe he was too picky and standard. Maybe Jinri was right, there was just no one that falls under his ideal type.

“Fuck,” Jay mumbles under his breath as he stomps childishly on a crispy leaf. Who was he fucking kidding? This was all his damn fault. There would have been someone so perfect for him if he just stopped and get to know the people before fucking them into their sheets.

Jay looks up from the floor to realize his familiar steps as he presses a button to the elevator, his heart beating too fast for no fucking reason. He stares at the shining doors of elevator with now an empty thought in his head. He isn’t so sure how he got here and isn’t so sure why either but it feels right the moment he slips pass through the doors to walk down the hallway.

Without hesitation, he barges into the small room of her one person dorm. And before he gives a single thought about anything he says, he stares at her figure and blurts out, “hey, we should go out. Like on a date, you and me. Shit let’s try getting together.”

Jinri drops her opened water bottle on her light green carpet, spilling the contents. “What the fuck!?!”

“Is that a yes?”

***

“Yah! I could have died!” Jinri yells at him after he swiftly lifts her from the floor and sits her on top of the ladder of the playground set, her legs trapping him in between with her ankles locking together. His hands comfortably lays on her thighs as she hands her arms over his shoulder. Her cheeks slowly turns to a faint color of pink as he continues to gaze at her features. “Stop doing that,” she whines weakly as she drops her chin to her chest to avert away from his stare.

“Stop doing what?” Jay steps closer towards her, his arms resting besides her legs on the metal surface. She blushes harder when he tilts his head to look at her from under her, their eyes meeting momentarily before she closes them tight, squeezing him with her legs. “Jinri.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Jinri whispers lowly, lifting her head when Jay nudges her chin with the knuckle of his index finger, reopening her eyes to look down at him, meeting his two dark orbs again. “Who knew you’d want to date me? Me? Out of all people, me?”

“You’re my best friend,” Jay simply explains, words so simple yet they both know the deeper meaning behind it, and it’s only for them to treasure. Jinri just whines louder not a second later and hides her face against his shoulder, her hand coming to aid as she covers the side of her face, and Jay just finds her more endearing than before.

“What the fuck?” she groans as her free hand smacks him on the chest again, mumbling about how stupid they both are, alternating between blaming him and then herself with no aim of what the faults are about. “It doesn’t even make sense!”

“Are you complaining?”

“N-no,” Jinri is quick to shake her head before whispering softly, like her words are only for him to hear. “I’m just really really happy.”

“Me too. It’s been awhile,” Jay confesses just as quietly and for a moment Jinri forgets to breathe. And Jay likes it, likes it when she becomes breathless without having to do an exerting a huge amount of force. Jay wishes to steal it more often. “Jinri,” he whispers again and pulls his head back to force her to look at him. Gently, he cups her cheek in his hand, his thumb caressing the softness of her skin. “You make me happy.”

The sight of her smiling widely for him with her eyes shining against the darkness around them, it makes him feel so elated. A feeling he’s so foreign with. So he takes his chances to pull her in and let their lips finally meet for the first time, his eyes closing the moment he feels the softness of her lips against his own. Jay starts hearing the pounding of his heart against his ear as Jinri then grabs both of his cheeks to pull him even closer, deepening their kiss as their lips lock. And soon enough, Jay couldn’t hear anything anymore as she grows more daring to graze her teeth along the seams of his lower tier before letting her tongue take its own feel, and Jay knows by then, he’ll be nothing but lost in her control.

***

“What do you mean? I think you’re fucking sexy like that?”

If there is anything Jay likes doing to Jinri is making her flustered. A flushed startled look with her eyes widening. That one moment of silence before she’s shoving at him and yelling before proceeding to run to another room to hide.

“Cute booty.”

***

Jay is more than unsure about the pressure against his crotch, especially when his mind is still foggy from sleep. Either way, the pressure is more than welcoming when he slowly stirs from his sleep to wake up to a curtain of blonde hair around his face. Her hands pinning his shoulders down against the mattress, fingers digging into his skin as her hips gyrate her hips down his own. “Jinri…?” he moans out the question when she particularly rolls her hips forward.

Jinri then leans back to sit right on his hips, ass perked on his growing bulge with enough pressure that he becomes wanting but not enough that he feels an urge to lift his hip. Her hair is in dishevelled around her, long locks reaching past her (read: his) white hoodie. Jinri lets out a small little whine that escapes pass her plump lips, her hands playing with the waistband of his boxers. The corners of her eyes welling up in small tears.

“Daddy, can Jinri get her cummies now?”

Jay freezes in his spot and when he blinks once, Jinri disappears and it feels very hot. He quickly sits up and runs his fingers through his hair, his mind trying to process things. And then he begins patting himself frantically, trying to find the reality of things. It is only when he realizes everything was just a dream, he curses under his breath. With a frustrated groan, he falls back onto his pillows, crying loudly, “when is she going to fuck me?! It’s been three months???”

***

Happy Anniversary baby

[tessatechaitea]

Justice League of America #6

How are new readers going to know they should pick this up because Lobo is in it? This is a poor choice of covers.

Remember the good old days when every drop of Lobo's blood could regenerate into a full Lobo? How did that never become the explanation for Twat Lobo and Magenta Timeline Lobo? Seriously missed opportunity.

Meanwhile on some more pages without Lobo therefore they're wasted pages, Killer Frost saves some civilians by freezing a terrorist's arm off. The civilians are ungrateful wretches who can't see the humor in a terrorist who just threatened the lives of their children losing his arm. Killer Frost is all, "Um, whoops? Don't tell Batman?" The Ray refuses to tear out Lobo's heart for some reason. I bet it's because he's in loOoOoOoOove with Lobo! I mean, who isn't? But The Ray doesn't want to hurt the person he loves. I'm using "love" in the way all people who don't believe in love use it: to camouflage from romantic types that we're actually saying "Please give me oral pleasure until I humiliate myself in front of you with my satisfaction noises." The Ray does cut out Lobo's heart after Lobo yells at him the way his mother used to yell at him when he tried to peak out of his dark bedroom window. After reading so many DC Comics for so many years, I have to wonder why I don't have super powers! My mom was the most paranoid and manipulative person and my dad left when I was two to become a giant drunk absentee bastard! Where is the justice that I get all of the Mommy and Daddy Issues and none of the super powers and hot trim?! Lobo collapses because he doesn't have a heart anymore. It's not that he dies at that moment. It's just that he can't do much without any blood pumping oxygen to his brain. He just has to wait until his undying cells that can't die repair the damage and get the overall system back up and running. It's like a city that stops functioning because an earthquake destroyed most of the infrastructure. The people are still alive even though the city has come to a halt. They just have to get to work fixing it up again. Until Lobo regenerates, I guess I'll just have to suffer through a bout of being bored by this comic book. This story is called "The Heart of a Bastich." Is bastich Latin? Do you conjugate nouns in Latin? Bastich. Basteres. Bastard. Basteremus. Bastarent. Um, anyway, I don't think the title refers to Lobo referring to himself (because of the conjgation! Duh!). I bet it turns out to be Ryan Choi who shows himself to be a real bastich because he's the only one currently facing off against Aegeus. Everybody is probably thinking, "Oh no! The poor little grad student in the nerdy glasses can't stand up to a great big charismatic terrorist who probably has a huge, thick penis! He's going to die!" But instead, he's going to be all, "I'm gonna fuck you so hard Aegeus!" Then he'll grow really small and everybody will be all, "Where is he?" Then Aegeus will get a weird look on his face. Everybody will recognize that look as the one where you suddenly feel your asshole get itchy due to physical exertion, sweat, and a rancid dingleberry you hadn't know was stuck up in there. Then you contemplate how to deal with it. Do you unsatisfyingly scratch the itch through your clothing as people nearby make disgusted looks and judge as if they've never done that before. Or do you go all in and shove your hand down the back of your pants and stick a finger way up there so that it feels like you're scratching the inside of the front of your skin, after which you remove your hand and then stall for a few moments as you glance around at who might be watching before you casually pretend to scratch your nose so you can sniff your fingers. You know that look? That's the look Aegeus will have just before The Atom expands to full size and explodes Aegeus's colon all over the room. Oh. It doesn't happen that way. I can't say I'm disappointed though because Atom's life is rescued this way instead:

Yay Lobo! My penis rejoices at your renewed vigor!

Lobo and The Ray are merely a distraction so that The Atom can prove himself in battle. He turns tiny, avoids Aegeus's butthole, and turns big again, using the power of density or mass increasing or quantum hullabaloo to knock Aegeus out in one nerdy punch. Lobo instantly takes credit for Ryan's newfound ability to commit violent acts. Some people don't like Lobo but that's probably because they've read versions of Lobo written and drawn by people who either don't like Lobo or don't understand Lobo. Nobody would be surprised how many writers used Lobo in the 90s simply to get a boost in sales while hating themselves for using a character they despised. And it's less surprising than that even that they would treat him as a joke and make him look as idiotic as possible. But sometimes a writer gets the character and my heart sings. Other times, an artist really gets the character and a part of me that got me banned from all Popeye's restaurants sings.

Andy MacDonald, you make my anal sphincter sing!

You don't need to hear the story about my banishment from Popeye's. But if you want more details to help create the scenario in your imagination, here are a few keywords: spicy chicken, dare, Tubgirl reenactment. Let me say goodbye to a few followers of my blog right now since I won't get the chance after the next sentence. I'm not sure what Lobo is threatening to do to Aegeus at the end of the above scan but I know it doesn't have anything to do with rape because that would be wrong and never funny. Especially when Lobo knows the humiliation of being married and raped by a Gothamite pervert super hero. If Lobo learned the opposite lesson, you wouldn't know it because it's not like Lobo said in the panel before the scanned panels, "I got something ta finish up. Ya might want to avert yer eyes. Also, do we have a wedding dress and a camcorder?" I mean, he said some of that! But probably not all of it. After whatever just happened to Aegeus in the space between pages happens, his army's flying steeds turn back into salt. Without scary steeds, the army surrenders to the angry citizens of Penn City. The next day, Batman lets everybody know that "Aegeus' injuries are being treated." I would have said "Aegeus's injuries" but then I'm just smarter. Anyway, what could those injuries have been? Nobody goes into detail! Batman warned Lobo against maiming and Batman hasn't one-punched Lobo into being a better person yet, so I'm guessing Lobo just beat the guy with a tube sock stuffed with a bar of soap. Incidentally, that's the exact turn of phrase a person would use t describe a Czarnian penis. The citizens tell Batman, "You know, thanks for, like, stopping that jerk. But he was, you know, paying us money. So now were broke and shit. What are you going to do about that, asshole?" Before Batman can break the dick's jaw, Vixen pipes up. She's all, "I'll set up one of my non-profits here and you can all get jobs!" Then a bunch of the dumber and Republican residents are all, "How are we going to make money if it's a non-profit?! Get out of here with your communist bullshit! I'd rather starve!" But Vixen, undaunted, continues, "People notice my shit. More businesses will move in. Wealthy businesses! The totally for profit kind! The kind that probably has a big 'W' in the name, if Batman gets my fucking drift!" Then everybody cheers at the good news without realizing that they're just going to go back to making weapons in a few months when WayneTech moves in. Later, Lobo gets me all teary eyed because I'm a pusstich, I guess.

Forget the cutesy-wutesy bonding bullshit! What did Batman promise Lobo?! I bet Batman promised to build him a glory hole portal into a sexy dimension!

I hope nobody ever shows Lobo a copy of The Cove. Japan thought the ending of World War II was awful? Wait until Lobo tattoos Fat Man and Little Boy onto his left and right fist (respectively) and wades onto their shores. Xenos moves into The Sanctuary to help build weapons and polish Silver. That wasn't a typo; Silver is the name of Ray's penis. I'm so happy that this comic book currently exists! Steve Orlando seems to understand and love violent psychopathic characters as much as I do! I know Twat Lobo was last seen in Larfleeze's trophy case but I hope Real Deal Lobo gets a chance to murder the fuck out of him. Multiple times even!

[apsbicepstraining]

5 Harsh Truths That Will Make You Less Of A Jerk

Humanity is principally defined by its is no way to seize the obvious. So, let me ask you this TAGEND

What is the most obviously wrong shit that beings feel on a daily basis that — wait for it — you too believe ?

I’m talking about something that you know on an intellectual level is incorrect, but five minutes after being reminded of it, you forget again. If you can’t think about one, well, I gamble I can. And it comes back to burn you in the proverbial ass method more frequently than you think …

# 5. We Are Privately Sure Everyone Feels The Same Pleasure And Pain

When you’re a toddler, you acquire everyone and everything in your world are similar to you. That’s why you used to think your thrust animals get lonely if you didn’t play with them and that your parents would love your cartoons if they would just give them an opportunity. It’s a normal chapter of a kid’s proliferation and as this much smarter guy points out, we never certainly germinate out of it.

I mean, you probably recollect being a boy and hearing an amazing new song that shaped you want to punch-dance through a brick wall … and then you played it for a couple sidekicks and they just got that gross look on their faces. You know, the watch of nervously pretending to enjoy something loathsome? What follows is more awkward three minutes of your life, during which you find yourself going steadily angrier( “Why are they claiming not to like it? ” ). But eventually, you grow up and realize that not everyone likes the same things.

Years afterwards, you get the flu but ability through production anyway, rather than miss season. Then, a co-worker catches it and takes three sick daytimes. You roll your eyes and announce him a pussy, automatically assuming that the two of you two are find exactly the same indications, but that one of you was tougher.

The obvious concept you’ll be missing is that standing is at least as subjective as music. Hell, discipline even is indicated that redheads tend to feel more ache than everyone else, due to a genetic quirk. It appears that it’s the same for women, due to how pain signals are communicated to the girl intelligence. Meanwhile, people from colder parts of the world literally stop feeling the cold the method the rest of us do. Some beings almost never appear fear — not due to firmnes, but due to a collapse of certain types of contacts in the intelligence( they’re called sociopaths ). All of the hotshots that motivate us to haunt specific actions and avoid others actually feel totally different from person to person.

She can snow angel for hours on end, but needs an ER trip and three months of rehab after a snowball engage .

You’ll shrug and say, “Of course, everyone known to be, you turdthinker, ” but five minutes after reading such articles, you’ll act in a way that substantiates you don’t. I’ve had fit acquaintances get annoyed with me when I say I’ve never experienced the “runner’s high” euphoria that comes with hard exercise. They say it’s because I’m not pushing myself hard enough, while science says some people are just physically incapable of appearing it. So, are my friends fit because they’re more dedicated than I am, or do they just enjoy the “high” of employ? They clearly want the former to be true. My thin acquaintances don’t like to admit that there’s a hormone that moves you starving and that some people simply have more of it.

That’s because formerly you accept the idea that it rightfully would feel completely different to live inside another person’s form, everything changes. After all, at what point can you safely accuse person for, well, anything?

# 4. We Don’t Realize The Battle Inside

I know what you’re saying. I ever know. “Oh, so you’re one of those buttholes who say nothing is anybody’s blame, because those poor souls are helpless to refuse their caprices? So, when somebody tortures a child to fatality, we’re supposed to give him a hug and say he couldn’t used to help? Is that it, butthole? You are the hole of a butt.”

No! You altogether are defined by how good of a position you do opposing your pernicious exhorts and overcoming hurting. Maturation is an issue of getting better at it; success is an issue of mastering it. Beating back the urge to procrastinate, to cease, to be lazy … that’s how you reach the top, child! Buy my notebook !

But …

You know that person at the part who’s ever furious? He blew up last month because soul lost an invoice. Last Christmas, he lost his shit because he thought somebody stole his lunch out of the fridge. You check him throw his outbursts and marvel at how immature he is. After all, you get angry, very, but you ensure it! Hell, you’ve had people plagiarize your lunch tons of periods, and you’ve never kicked a trashcan so difficult that it left a dent and realise the secretary cry.

Sure, you’ve fantasized about shitting in the culprit’s yogurt and blaming it on the apprentice, but you’ve never actually done it .

However, here’s the thing: From your outcome, he’s “always” angry. From his culminate, he’s had two blowups spread across several months and, in between those incidents, he successfully resisted the recommend to explode 162 experiences . His anger urges come more frequently than yours, and he experiences them more strongly. For him, every “normal” day is the result of a hard-won duel … but, you merely see when he loses. He find himself as the hero of his own life, battered and bruised by his personal demons. You envision him as a ridiculous manchild who loves to discover himself yell. You detest his unstable, feelings ass.

Or, you witness the space your depressed sidekick goes residence from operate and immediately clangs on the sofa, refusing to go out or do anything recreation. You dislike the acces she merely … affords up and refuses to even talking here it. Invisible to you is the merciless attempt she exerted precisely to make it through wreak. So, you get annoyed. Or, you find your marriage “feel like i m cheating on” you. You didn’t investigate all of the dozens of hours he had the exhort and fought. You merely encounter the moment he lastly demonstrated in. And you want to fucking kill him for it.

Basically half of all country music jobs are started this way .

And because you exclusively established up in the consequences of the these combats, they believe your grumbles to be the equivalent of some bureaucrats intimidating Arnold Schwarzenegger’s character after the events of Predator . “Why did you blow up a whole jungle, asshole? Your whole gang is dead, and it’s your flaw! No, I don’t want to hear your apologizes! Whose arm is this? “

“Fuck the chopper, your ass is getting to the unemployment path! ”

# 3. … But We’ll Usually Forgive Ourselves For The Same Failure

Here’s a question I bet you’ve never stopped to ask: Why is it an insult to allege officers of adoration doughnuts? Or to joke about how black people affection fried chicken or watermelon?

And simply clearly stated, those are reviles( in the U.S ., at the least ). If a officer plucks you over and you tell him, “Hey, you know the doughnut shop shuts at 8 p. m ., you better move, ” you know you’re pee-pee him off. If a grey buster moves up to groupings of black people standing on a street corner and says, “What, did somebody sag a barrel of fried chicken? ” he knows he’s trying to start a fight.

One that’ll end with him complaining online that nobody but him has a sense of humor anymore . But, why is it an offend? It’s not like the behaviour itself is vile — right now, there’s some grey buster sitting in a Popeyes Chicken restaurant snickering to his friends because a group of pitch-black guys trodden in. “Ha, how did I know they’d be here! I potted they’d rioting if this neighbourhood closed down! ” — literally taunting their desire of fried chicken through a sip of fried chicken. Well, what you’re find is a ritual we all go through in order to reassure ourselves. “Theres” two steps to it TAGEND

For the first, imagine a group of friends sitting around and sharing embarrassing fibs. As many of you know, during filming of the TV present Nashville , I was accidentally captured in the backdrop of a shot urinating into a fountain. So, I will tell that storey among friends, because I know someone else will immediately try to top it( “One age, ” says John, “I was pissing in the lavatory during a White House tour, and the president strolled in and I inadvertently turned around and pissed on him! I think some of it got in his lip! ” ). The aim is to reassure each other that our lives are screwed up in exactly the same way.

“For the record, John wholly plagiarized that storey from me.”

But, then comes the second largest part of the ritual, in which we’ll jest at somebody else’s screw-ups in a completely unforgiving and mean-spirited room, strictly to reassure ourselves that their failures aren’t like ours. “My family went to India a couple of years ago. All of the streets reek like piss! Merely a disgusting people — they’re like swine! “

This is why I invested my first got a couple of decades of life stimulating gay laughs with my small-town peers. For a cluster of guys scared of what their hormones were doing to them( “they can never know I jerked off to a Sports Illustrated article about beach volleyball! ” ), it was very reassuring to sit around and say, “Man, are you able dream going turned on by buster laughingstock ? ” It’s the same reason we would laugh at a friend’s messy copulation legends( “So, then I wake up and roll over — I’m like, I don’t even know this chick! She looked like fucking Richard Belzer! “) and then immediately talking here what worthless sluts those cheerleaders are. The theme? Our uncontrollable compulsions are lighthearted recreation, theirs are a signaling of weakness and degeneracy.

“Can you believe Richard Belzer just takes these pics that guys like us is likely to be masturbate to? God, what a Hollywood closet case.”

Thus, the “fried chicken” gags. The consequence is that, where my consumption of deep-fried chicken is just a ordinary buster gobbling an incredibly favourite American bowl, their uptake is due to a atrocious cultural failure to control their pushes. It shifts them into cartoonish gluttons, with no more self-control than pups. It’s the same reason my high school gay parodies often implied that homosexuals are ravenous rapists who can’t control their immorality( “When you’re in the cupboard chamber with Kevin, don’t deflect over for the soap! ” ).

But, in addition to causing us to be dicks to other people, this double standard too symbolizes …

# 2. You’re Constantly Getting Blindsided By Your Own Weaknesses

There’s this thing everybody does the first time they have to sit down and write up a budget. They’ll plan everything down to the penny — the really smart ones will even set aside some fund for disaster gondola restores and those sorts of things. But, they are able to also completely fail to plan for one important category TAGEND

Fucking up.

I’m talking about the weekend when you’re so depressed that you only buy a shitload of day-old grocery store donuts and eat all of them yourself. I’m talking about the eBay auction you acquire thanks to a drunken late-night offer, or the expensive talent bought for a special a person who has you detect doesn’t looks just like you back, or the dumb impulse buys you’ll inevitably become when you’re get over the breakup and want some kind of shining spot in their own lives( maybe it’ll be a puppy next time !).

“I’m not going to name you, so I’ll feel less guilty when you have to be returned.”

“Well, I precisely won’t do those happenings, ” you’ll say, “now that I have a fund! ” See, Future You goes tagged with the same ludicrous belief we make about strangers: All motivations can easily be overcome with a little effort. Future You won’t oblige dumb purchases to deaden desolate moods! That shit is what Old You did — from here on out, it’s smooth sailing!

And when you start dating mortal new, you never envisage, “This will be a good person to handle my alternating irritation outbursts and emotional cold spells six months after now! ” You’ll instead suppose yourself being awesome and stable, eternally. And when job opportunities comes up to take on a second place, one that would eliminate both sleep and your social life? “No problem! Future Me doesn’t get sleepy or lonely! Future Me is a robot that works with absolute precision and reliability! “

“Ho Hos from the vending machine are the only Christmas dinner I need tonight.”

Oh, sure, there are parties out there who run the opposite room, who joke about how they’re precisely a loser destined to wind up old and drunkard. But, frequently, the precise reasonablenes they’re down is because they’re repeatedly disappointed by how they screw up in the same roads again and again. Their own weaknesses continue to astonish them, since they are refuse to be realistic about how strong the desires are by comparison. Here’s a relevant time for those of you who want a brief YouTube snap TAGEND

It’s hard-handed, if not impossible, to make peace with the fact that we are always going to fuck up on occasion. And, at health risks of going taken out of situation, I’ve got to say that this has really facilitated me realize Satan.

That concept of a tempter who can work from inside your very mind, offering up short-term gratifications in exchange for long-term destruction … it prepares feel. I don’t mean as a literal being, but as a course to facilitate step outside yourself in those critical time. You get an urge and you stop to say, “Is this the devil, tempting me? ” It realise you suspicious of your short-term indulgings — the starvation, the rage, the selfishness — all that shit that will devastates your relationships and health in the long run. When someone else screws up, you can see them as a fellow casualty of the Dark Lord himself, deserving of sympathy.

But, you know, there’s a intellect Christians still cheat on their spouses and booze themselves to fatality. All they were required to do is change the focus to other people and keep it there( “Gays are just heterosexuals who’ve been invited into sin by the Devil! ” ). Hey, be talking about which …

# 1. We Give Clueless, Bullshit Solutions … And Then Get Angry When They Don’t Work

That last thing is probably the most perfect portrait of what I’m talking about in this article. Why do Christians seem so obsessed with homosexuality? Why have they decided lesbian marriage is the one issue capable of exterminating the light of the righteous from the universe eternally?

Because it’s the ultimate exam of the “Everyone knows the same temptations” fallacy.

If you sit down a cluster of anxious and tired people and start proclaiming to them about their fragilities( desire, gluttony, petty savagery, adultery ), you get lots of vexed folks altering uncomfortably in the pews. But, when you take that same mob and preach against lures they never find, if you rail against the “gay agenda” and Muslims and the depravity of Hollywood, now you get some ovations and “Amens” flowing your room. “Let us all congratulate ourselves for not succumbing to the push to change our sexual orientation or transformed into Islam! We are truly badass fighters of goodnes! “

“Like Jesus before me, I genuinely have the eye of the beast! ”

And obligate no mistake, having grown up in an evangelical church, up until my 20 s I knew exactly how to solve the lesbian wedding act: Simply give them the same rights as everyone else. And by that, I signify the right to marry the opposite fornication. I swear it built appreciation at the time and, because you presumably did not just start reading the clause right here, you already know why. Everyone, I was told, is actually a heterosexual — God said so. Thus, “gay” people simply have a funny fetish for the same fornication that they can get over with a bit tradition. If you’d told me that my homophobia was itself the result of my own bad caprices( including an overdeveloped gumption of disgust that’s common to social reactionaries ), I’d have gazed at you like you’d precisely puckered your cheeks and realized one steady fart noise. ” My behavior isn’t due to uncontrollable impulses! I’m a fully functional human being, with a person, who constitutes moral selects! “

And if you’d told me that not only is what they’re doing not immoral, but that if I swopped organizations with them, I’d be just as gay , if not more so? Hopeless. For me, at the time, the implications would have been shattering.

You’d have gotten a similar mind from me considering anyone outside my own group, in fact. If you’d driven me through the projects, I’d have calmly explained that if I was born there, I’d get a part-time job, save up some money, and move the hell out! I stepped around every day patting myself on the back for overcoming counsels I didn’t even detect, to make myself feel right about the ones I was giving in to on a daily basis. My years of asshole know-how are probably why I’m so fascinated with the Internet’s fat-hating obsession today. I return it up a lot, and it’s because each time some clueless 20 time old-fashioned says, “Losing weight is simple: It’s calories in, calories out! All you need is a little self-respect! ” I smile and nod and think, “Yep, that was me! I thought that same condescending bullshit! “

Spoiler: I was incorrect .

But, I attest that even experts acquire the same damned mistake, and always will. Pick any theme. Like the obesity stuff — we’ll listen a new possibility every month about whether fighting obesity is about cutting carbs, or paunch, or sugar, or precisely dismissing it all and cutting calories. They rarely seem to factor in the only thing that really subjects: which diet doesn’t leave you starving. Because if you’re getting pummeled with emptines insists, you will succumb. This is why exercise doesn’t induce you lose weight — exercise ignites calories but also clears you hungrier. And exactly 100 percentage of humans have a doorstep at which they no longer have the force to repel an exhort. I don’t care who you are — if the president himself got thirsty enough, he’d be begging John to pee-pee in his lip. It’s science.

It would also be a great style to choose who in the field really wants to be president .

Or what about violation? Statistically, if you grew up under certain circumstances, you’re far more likely to turn into war criminals. Now, cue the anecdotes: “Well, I grew up in the rough part of city, and I never so much as got a rushing ticket! ” See, because their impulse to commit crimes is surely no more powerful than ours, and our clean register is, hence, proof that we’re Gandhi. So, why lift a finger to improve those Ferguson “thugs” change “peoples lives”? None helped us! Better to retain a handgun under the couch and imagine about filming them when they break in.

“Well now, wait a second, ” you say, “that simply draws us back to the blame question that “youve never” got around to reacting. If we can’t genuinely know how hard individual pushed the motive to do the shitty happening he only did, then how do we know when it’s okay to call him an asshole ? “

Hmmm. Good subject. Here’s someone babying a minuscule owl.

The post 5 Harsh Truths That Will Make You Less Of A Jerk appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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5 Harsh Truths That Will Make You Less Of A Jerk

Humanity is principally defined by its is no way to seize the obvious. So, let me ask you this TAGEND

What is the most obviously wrong shit that beings feel on a daily basis that — wait for it — you too believe ?

I’m talking about something that you know on an intellectual level is incorrect, but five minutes after being reminded of it, you forget again. If you can’t think about one, well, I gamble I can. And it comes back to burn you in the proverbial ass method more frequently than you think …

# 5. We Are Privately Sure Everyone Feels The Same Pleasure And Pain

When you’re a toddler, you acquire everyone and everything in your world are similar to you. That’s why you used to think your thrust animals get lonely if you didn’t play with them and that your parents would love your cartoons if they would just give them an opportunity. It’s a normal chapter of a kid’s proliferation and as this much smarter guy points out, we never certainly germinate out of it.

I mean, you probably recollect being a boy and hearing an amazing new song that shaped you want to punch-dance through a brick wall … and then you played it for a couple sidekicks and they just got that gross look on their faces. You know, the watch of nervously pretending to enjoy something loathsome? What follows is more awkward three minutes of your life, during which you find yourself going steadily angrier( “Why are they claiming not to like it? ” ). But eventually, you grow up and realize that not everyone likes the same things.

Years afterwards, you get the flu but ability through production anyway, rather than miss season. Then, a co-worker catches it and takes three sick daytimes. You roll your eyes and announce him a pussy, automatically assuming that the two of you two are find exactly the same indications, but that one of you was tougher.

The obvious concept you’ll be missing is that standing is at least as subjective as music. Hell, discipline even is indicated that redheads tend to feel more ache than everyone else, due to a genetic quirk. It appears that it’s the same for women, due to how pain signals are communicated to the girl intelligence. Meanwhile, people from colder parts of the world literally stop feeling the cold the method the rest of us do. Some beings almost never appear fear — not due to firmnes, but due to a collapse of certain types of contacts in the intelligence( they’re called sociopaths ). All of the hotshots that motivate us to haunt specific actions and avoid others actually feel totally different from person to person.

She can snow angel for hours on end, but needs an ER trip and three months of rehab after a snowball engage .

You’ll shrug and say, “Of course, everyone known to be, you turdthinker, ” but five minutes after reading such articles, you’ll act in a way that substantiates you don’t. I’ve had fit acquaintances get annoyed with me when I say I’ve never experienced the “runner’s high” euphoria that comes with hard exercise. They say it’s because I’m not pushing myself hard enough, while science says some people are just physically incapable of appearing it. So, are my friends fit because they’re more dedicated than I am, or do they just enjoy the “high” of employ? They clearly want the former to be true. My thin acquaintances don’t like to admit that there’s a hormone that moves you starving and that some people simply have more of it.

That’s because formerly you accept the idea that it rightfully would feel completely different to live inside another person’s form, everything changes. After all, at what point can you safely accuse person for, well, anything?

# 4. We Don’t Realize The Battle Inside

I know what you’re saying. I ever know. “Oh, so you’re one of those buttholes who say nothing is anybody’s blame, because those poor souls are helpless to refuse their caprices? So, when somebody tortures a child to fatality, we’re supposed to give him a hug and say he couldn’t used to help? Is that it, butthole? You are the hole of a butt.”

No! You altogether are defined by how good of a position you do opposing your pernicious exhorts and overcoming hurting. Maturation is an issue of getting better at it; success is an issue of mastering it. Beating back the urge to procrastinate, to cease, to be lazy … that’s how you reach the top, child! Buy my notebook !

But …

You know that person at the part who’s ever furious? He blew up last month because soul lost an invoice. Last Christmas, he lost his shit because he thought somebody stole his lunch out of the fridge. You check him throw his outbursts and marvel at how immature he is. After all, you get angry, very, but you ensure it! Hell, you’ve had people plagiarize your lunch tons of periods, and you’ve never kicked a trashcan so difficult that it left a dent and realise the secretary cry.

Sure, you’ve fantasized about shitting in the culprit’s yogurt and blaming it on the apprentice, but you’ve never actually done it .

However, here’s the thing: From your outcome, he’s “always” angry. From his culminate, he’s had two blowups spread across several months and, in between those incidents, he successfully resisted the recommend to explode 162 experiences . His anger urges come more frequently than yours, and he experiences them more strongly. For him, every “normal” day is the result of a hard-won duel … but, you merely see when he loses. He find himself as the hero of his own life, battered and bruised by his personal demons. You envision him as a ridiculous manchild who loves to discover himself yell. You detest his unstable, feelings ass.

Or, you witness the space your depressed sidekick goes residence from operate and immediately clangs on the sofa, refusing to go out or do anything recreation. You dislike the acces she merely … affords up and refuses to even talking here it. Invisible to you is the merciless attempt she exerted precisely to make it through wreak. So, you get annoyed. Or, you find your marriage “feel like i m cheating on” you. You didn’t investigate all of the dozens of hours he had the exhort and fought. You merely encounter the moment he lastly demonstrated in. And you want to fucking kill him for it.

Basically half of all country music jobs are started this way .

And because you exclusively established up in the consequences of the these combats, they believe your grumbles to be the equivalent of some bureaucrats intimidating Arnold Schwarzenegger’s character after the events of Predator . “Why did you blow up a whole jungle, asshole? Your whole gang is dead, and it’s your flaw! No, I don’t want to hear your apologizes! Whose arm is this? “

“Fuck the chopper, your ass is getting to the unemployment path! ”

# 3. … But We’ll Usually Forgive Ourselves For The Same Failure

Here’s a question I bet you’ve never stopped to ask: Why is it an insult to allege officers of adoration doughnuts? Or to joke about how black people affection fried chicken or watermelon?

And simply clearly stated, those are reviles( in the U.S ., at the least ). If a officer plucks you over and you tell him, “Hey, you know the doughnut shop shuts at 8 p. m ., you better move, ” you know you’re pee-pee him off. If a grey buster moves up to groupings of black people standing on a street corner and says, “What, did somebody sag a barrel of fried chicken? ” he knows he’s trying to start a fight.

One that’ll end with him complaining online that nobody but him has a sense of humor anymore . But, why is it an offend? It’s not like the behaviour itself is vile — right now, there’s some grey buster sitting in a Popeyes Chicken restaurant snickering to his friends because a group of pitch-black guys trodden in. “Ha, how did I know they’d be here! I potted they’d rioting if this neighbourhood closed down! ” — literally taunting their desire of fried chicken through a sip of fried chicken. Well, what you’re find is a ritual we all go through in order to reassure ourselves. “Theres” two steps to it TAGEND

For the first, imagine a group of friends sitting around and sharing embarrassing fibs. As many of you know, during filming of the TV present Nashville , I was accidentally captured in the backdrop of a shot urinating into a fountain. So, I will tell that storey among friends, because I know someone else will immediately try to top it( “One age, ” says John, “I was pissing in the lavatory during a White House tour, and the president strolled in and I inadvertently turned around and pissed on him! I think some of it got in his lip! ” ). The aim is to reassure each other that our lives are screwed up in exactly the same way.

“For the record, John wholly plagiarized that storey from me.”

But, then comes the second largest part of the ritual, in which we’ll jest at somebody else’s screw-ups in a completely unforgiving and mean-spirited room, strictly to reassure ourselves that their failures aren’t like ours. “My family went to India a couple of years ago. All of the streets reek like piss! Merely a disgusting people — they’re like swine! “

This is why I invested my first got a couple of decades of life stimulating gay laughs with my small-town peers. For a cluster of guys scared of what their hormones were doing to them( “they can never know I jerked off to a Sports Illustrated article about beach volleyball! ” ), it was very reassuring to sit around and say, “Man, are you able dream going turned on by buster laughingstock ? ” It’s the same reason we would laugh at a friend’s messy copulation legends( “So, then I wake up and roll over — I’m like, I don’t even know this chick! She looked like fucking Richard Belzer! “) and then immediately talking here what worthless sluts those cheerleaders are. The theme? Our uncontrollable compulsions are lighthearted recreation, theirs are a signaling of weakness and degeneracy.

“Can you believe Richard Belzer just takes these pics that guys like us is likely to be masturbate to? God, what a Hollywood closet case.”

Thus, the “fried chicken” gags. The consequence is that, where my consumption of deep-fried chicken is just a ordinary buster gobbling an incredibly favourite American bowl, their uptake is due to a atrocious cultural failure to control their pushes. It shifts them into cartoonish gluttons, with no more self-control than pups. It’s the same reason my high school gay parodies often implied that homosexuals are ravenous rapists who can’t control their immorality( “When you’re in the cupboard chamber with Kevin, don’t deflect over for the soap! ” ).

But, in addition to causing us to be dicks to other people, this double standard too symbolizes …

# 2. You’re Constantly Getting Blindsided By Your Own Weaknesses

There’s this thing everybody does the first time they have to sit down and write up a budget. They’ll plan everything down to the penny — the really smart ones will even set aside some fund for disaster gondola restores and those sorts of things. But, they are able to also completely fail to plan for one important category TAGEND

Fucking up.

I’m talking about the weekend when you’re so depressed that you only buy a shitload of day-old grocery store donuts and eat all of them yourself. I’m talking about the eBay auction you acquire thanks to a drunken late-night offer, or the expensive talent bought for a special a person who has you detect doesn’t looks just like you back, or the dumb impulse buys you’ll inevitably become when you’re get over the breakup and want some kind of shining spot in their own lives( maybe it’ll be a puppy next time !).

“I’m not going to name you, so I’ll feel less guilty when you have to be returned.”

“Well, I precisely won’t do those happenings, ” you’ll say, “now that I have a fund! ” See, Future You goes tagged with the same ludicrous belief we make about strangers: All motivations can easily be overcome with a little effort. Future You won’t oblige dumb purchases to deaden desolate moods! That shit is what Old You did — from here on out, it’s smooth sailing!

And when you start dating mortal new, you never envisage, “This will be a good person to handle my alternating irritation outbursts and emotional cold spells six months after now! ” You’ll instead suppose yourself being awesome and stable, eternally. And when job opportunities comes up to take on a second place, one that would eliminate both sleep and your social life? “No problem! Future Me doesn’t get sleepy or lonely! Future Me is a robot that works with absolute precision and reliability! “

“Ho Hos from the vending machine are the only Christmas dinner I need tonight.”

Oh, sure, there are parties out there who run the opposite room, who joke about how they’re precisely a loser destined to wind up old and drunkard. But, frequently, the precise reasonablenes they’re down is because they’re repeatedly disappointed by how they screw up in the same roads again and again. Their own weaknesses continue to astonish them, since they are refuse to be realistic about how strong the desires are by comparison. Here’s a relevant time for those of you who want a brief YouTube snap TAGEND

It’s hard-handed, if not impossible, to make peace with the fact that we are always going to fuck up on occasion. And, at health risks of going taken out of situation, I’ve got to say that this has really facilitated me realize Satan.

That concept of a tempter who can work from inside your very mind, offering up short-term gratifications in exchange for long-term destruction … it prepares feel. I don’t mean as a literal being, but as a course to facilitate step outside yourself in those critical time. You get an urge and you stop to say, “Is this the devil, tempting me? ” It realise you suspicious of your short-term indulgings — the starvation, the rage, the selfishness — all that shit that will devastates your relationships and health in the long run. When someone else screws up, you can see them as a fellow casualty of the Dark Lord himself, deserving of sympathy.

But, you know, there’s a intellect Christians still cheat on their spouses and booze themselves to fatality. All they were required to do is change the focus to other people and keep it there( “Gays are just heterosexuals who’ve been invited into sin by the Devil! ” ). Hey, be talking about which …

# 1. We Give Clueless, Bullshit Solutions … And Then Get Angry When They Don’t Work

That last thing is probably the most perfect portrait of what I’m talking about in this article. Why do Christians seem so obsessed with homosexuality? Why have they decided lesbian marriage is the one issue capable of exterminating the light of the righteous from the universe eternally?

Because it’s the ultimate exam of the “Everyone knows the same temptations” fallacy.

If you sit down a cluster of anxious and tired people and start proclaiming to them about their fragilities( desire, gluttony, petty savagery, adultery ), you get lots of vexed folks altering uncomfortably in the pews. But, when you take that same mob and preach against lures they never find, if you rail against the “gay agenda” and Muslims and the depravity of Hollywood, now you get some ovations and “Amens” flowing your room. “Let us all congratulate ourselves for not succumbing to the push to change our sexual orientation or transformed into Islam! We are truly badass fighters of goodnes! “

“Like Jesus before me, I genuinely have the eye of the beast! ”

And obligate no mistake, having grown up in an evangelical church, up until my 20 s I knew exactly how to solve the lesbian wedding act: Simply give them the same rights as everyone else. And by that, I signify the right to marry the opposite fornication. I swear it built appreciation at the time and, because you presumably did not just start reading the clause right here, you already know why. Everyone, I was told, is actually a heterosexual — God said so. Thus, “gay” people simply have a funny fetish for the same fornication that they can get over with a bit tradition. If you’d told me that my homophobia was itself the result of my own bad caprices( including an overdeveloped gumption of disgust that’s common to social reactionaries ), I’d have gazed at you like you’d precisely puckered your cheeks and realized one steady fart noise. ” My behavior isn’t due to uncontrollable impulses! I’m a fully functional human being, with a person, who constitutes moral selects! “

And if you’d told me that not only is what they’re doing not immoral, but that if I swopped organizations with them, I’d be just as gay , if not more so? Hopeless. For me, at the time, the implications would have been shattering.

You’d have gotten a similar mind from me considering anyone outside my own group, in fact. If you’d driven me through the projects, I’d have calmly explained that if I was born there, I’d get a part-time job, save up some money, and move the hell out! I stepped around every day patting myself on the back for overcoming counsels I didn’t even detect, to make myself feel right about the ones I was giving in to on a daily basis. My years of asshole know-how are probably why I’m so fascinated with the Internet’s fat-hating obsession today. I return it up a lot, and it’s because each time some clueless 20 time old-fashioned says, “Losing weight is simple: It’s calories in, calories out! All you need is a little self-respect! ” I smile and nod and think, “Yep, that was me! I thought that same condescending bullshit! “

Spoiler: I was incorrect .

But, I attest that even experts acquire the same damned mistake, and always will. Pick any theme. Like the obesity stuff — we’ll listen a new possibility every month about whether fighting obesity is about cutting carbs, or paunch, or sugar, or precisely dismissing it all and cutting calories. They rarely seem to factor in the only thing that really subjects: which diet doesn’t leave you starving. Because if you’re getting pummeled with emptines insists, you will succumb. This is why exercise doesn’t induce you lose weight — exercise ignites calories but also clears you hungrier. And exactly 100 percentage of humans have a doorstep at which they no longer have the force to repel an exhort. I don’t care who you are — if the president himself got thirsty enough, he’d be begging John to pee-pee in his lip. It’s science.

It would also be a great style to choose who in the field really wants to be president .

Or what about violation? Statistically, if you grew up under certain circumstances, you’re far more likely to turn into war criminals. Now, cue the anecdotes: “Well, I grew up in the rough part of city, and I never so much as got a rushing ticket! ” See, because their impulse to commit crimes is surely no more powerful than ours, and our clean register is, hence, proof that we’re Gandhi. So, why lift a finger to improve those Ferguson “thugs” change “peoples lives”? None helped us! Better to retain a handgun under the couch and imagine about filming them when they break in.

“Well now, wait a second, ” you say, “that simply draws us back to the blame question that “youve never” got around to reacting. If we can’t genuinely know how hard individual pushed the motive to do the shitty happening he only did, then how do we know when it’s okay to call him an asshole ? “

Hmmm. Good subject. Here’s someone babying a minuscule owl.

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