Black cabin masturbation

ReddIt Tumblr US Representative Steve King of Iowa, the nine-term Republican with a long history of racist rhetoric and interactions with white nationalists, has lost his bid to be nominated for a 10th term early on Wednesday – one of the biggest defeats of the 2020 primary season in any state. El Senado USA llama a declarar a 41 implicados en la conspiración para derrocar a Trump: Q señala al 2 de octubre mientras vuelve a apuntar a la trama pedófila Epstein y el reseteo se pone en marcha Breaking The Rules 2. 50 photos. Breaking The Rules 3. 27 photos. Breaking The Rules 4. 27 photos. Breaking The Rules 5. 31 photos. Camp Sherwood Chapter 1. 12 photos. Camp Sherwood Chapter 10: A Fresh Start. 24 photos. Camp Sherwood Chapter 11: Straight Shooting. 7 photos. Camp Sherwood Chapter 2: Unhappy Reunion. /r/tumblr is your destination for Tumblr related discussions, jokes, screenshots, and more. Breaking The Rules 1 23; Breaking The Rules 2 50; Breaking The Rules 3 27; Breaking The Rules 4 27; Breaking The Rules 5 31; Camp Sherwood Chapter 1 12; Camp Sherwood Chapter 10: A Fresh Start 24; Camp Sherwood Chapter 11: Straight Shooting 7; Camp Sherwood Chapter 2: Unhappy Reunion 17; Camp Sherwood Chapter 3: Dodging The Issue 20 Nah man, cows are scary -----. When i was a kid a cow didnt particularly like me, kept staring at me, i minded my own business, until i saw that that ----er is running for me, i have no idea how she got loose you know the metal spikes in the ground but you can be damn sure i was inside the house faster than i could blink. I love you Finns more, we kept selling you cheap vodka, until my country ... Los ministros de Finanzas de los países que comparten el euro como moneda y sus análogos del resto de la UE volvían a encontrarse el nueve de abril con el propósito de conseguir un acuerdo en torno a un plan de rescate tras el impacto generado por la pandemia en la economía mundial playstation storeen.. abril 2020

2020.09.17 09:15 HaulA17Sep1l Black cabin masturbation

Breaking Da Rules Incest Reddit Po-rn Watch it Here >>>>>>>>>> 🔴►🔴► Play
Reddit Incest Reddit Incest Porn Incest Porn Reddit Gay Incest Reddit Reddit Gay Incest Reddit Incest Gifs Reddit Incest Text Incest Stories Reddit Reddit Incest Stories Incest Gifs Reddit Reddit R Incest Reddit Incest Videos Reddit Incest Relationships Incest Sexting Reddit Reddit Incest Relationship Reddit Com R Incest Mom Son Incest Reddit Incest Relationship Reddit Reddit Com Incest Reddit Incest Forum Reddit Incest Sex Stories Www Reddit Com R Incest Https Www Reddit Com R Incest Reddit True Incest Stories 14 Year Old Son Incest Reddit 4chan Incest Greentexts Mom Site Www.reddit.com 4chan Incest Thread Site Www.reddit.com A History of Sex and Love Reddit Incest A History of Sex and Love Reddit Incest Part 3 Academic Incest Reddit Accidental Incest Porn Reddit Accidental Incest Porn Stories Site Amp.reddit.com Accidental Incest Reddit Accidental Incest Stories Reddit Accidental Incest Texts Reddit Accidental Incest Tifu Site Www.reddit.com Actual Incest Porn Reddit Actual Incest Reddit Actual Incest Storys Reddit Addcited to Incest Porn Reddit Age Regression Incest Site Www.reddit.com Alabama Incest Memes Reddit Alabama Incest Reddit Alexis Texas Incest Captions Reddit Altered Carbon Incest Site Www.reddit.com Ama Incest Reddit Ama Reddit Brother Sister Incest Amateur Incest Captions Reddit Amateur Incest Porn Reddit Amateur Incest Reddit Amateur Incest Site Www.reddit.com Amateur Incest Videos Reddit Amatuer Incest Porn Reddit Amatuer Incest Reddit Amatutr Incest Reddit Anal Sex Not Incest Reddit Anal Sex Not Incest Reddit Anime Android Incest Games Reddit Any Good Vr Incest Porn Reddit Anya Olsen Reddit Incest Apartment M S Site Reddit.com R Incest Apartment Site Reddit.com R Incest Are Blowjobs Incest Reddit Asain Mask Incest Reddit Asian Mask Incest Reddit Asianmask Incest Reddit Ask Reddit Incest Askreddit Incest Boobs Site Www.reddit.com Askreddit Incest Reddit Askreddit Incest Site Www.reddit.com Aspergers Incest Thoughts Site Amp.reddit.com Audible Gone Wild Onee Chan Incest Reddit Audio Gone Wild Incest Site Www.reddit.com Audio Recording Incest Reddit Audiogonewild Incest Impreg Mom Site Www.reddit.com Audiogonewild Incest Mom Site Www.reddit.com Audiogonewild Incest Site Www.reddit.com Audiogonewild Mom Incest Site Www.reddit.com Aunt and Nephew Incest Texts Site Amp.reddit.com Aunt Incest Confession Site Www.reddit.com Aunt Incest Reddit Aunt May and Peter Parker Incest Porn Reddit Aunt Nephew Incest Reddit Aunt Nephew Reddit Incest Stories Australia Incest Porn Site Reddit.com Australia Incest Site Reddit.com B a Incest Swimming Reddit B B Incest Reddit B S Incest Reddit B S Reddit Swimming Incest Bbw Incest Reddit Became Sibmissive for My Son Reddit Incest Best Acting Incest Porn Site Www.reddit.com Best Amateur Incest Porn Reddit Best Brother Sister Incest Sites Reddit Best Dialogue Incest Site Www.reddit.com Best Dirty Talk Incest Site Www.reddit.com Best Father Daughter Incest Reddit Best Incest Anime Reddit Best Incest Hentai Manga Sites Reddit Best Incest Hentai Reddit Best Incest Literotica Reddit Best Incest Porn Games Reddit Best Incest Porn Games Reddit Webssite Best Incest Porn Reddit Best Incest Porn Reddit Cheesy Best Incest Porn Reddit Tabo Best Incest Porn Reddit Taboo Best Incest Porn Site Reddit.com Best Incest Porn Sites Reddit Best Incest Porn Sotes Reddit Best Incest Porn With a Story Reddit Best Incest Reddit Best Incest Reddit Brother Sister Best Incest Reddit Brother Sister Gif Best Incest Reddits Best Incest Scenes Reddit Best Incest Sex Stories Reddit Best Incest Sex Story Websites Reddit Best Incest Sibling Hentai Reddit Best Incest Site Reddit Best Incest Sites Reddit Best Incest Stories on Reddit Best Incest Stories Reddit Best Incest Story Reddit Best Incest Story Sites Reddit Best Incest Tumblr Reddit Best Incest Videos Reddit Best Incest Website Reddit Best Incest Wincest Mom Sister Reddit Best Incestments Reddit Best Japanese Incest Porn Reddit Best Mom Son Incest Videos Reddit Best Mother Daughter Incest Videos Reddit Best Mother Son Incest Actresses Reddit Best Movies About Incest Reddit Best Part of the Day Reddit Incest Best Place for Incest Erotica Reddit Best Porn Incest Sites Reddit Best Reddit Incest Porn Video Best Sibling Incest Reddit Best Site for Incest Reddit Bible Incest Reddit Big Boob Incest Porn Reddit Big Sis Incest Stories Reddit Big Sister Incest Audio Reddit Big Sister Incest Audio Site Amp.reddit.com Big Sister Little Brother Incest Stories Reddit Birthday Incest Reddit Black Incest Reddit Blackmail Aunt Incest Reddit Blackmail Incest Rp Ideas Site Www.reddit.com Blood Incest Hentai Video Reddit Breakin Da Rules Incest Comic Reddit Bro Incest Reddit Brother and Brother Incest Reddit Brother and Ister Incest Reddit Brother and Mom Incest Reddit Brother and Sister Incest Porn Reddit Brother and Sister Incest Why Reddit Brother Incest M4m Audio Site Www.reddit.com Brother Sister Incest Nudes Reddit Brother Sister Incest Real Stories Reddit Brother Sister Incest Reddit Brother Sister Incest Reddit Video Brother Sister Incest Sex Stories Reddit Brother Sister Incest Stories Reddit.com Brother Sister Pregnant Incest Reddit Brother Sister Real Incest Sex Stories Reddit Brother Sister Reddit Incest Brother Sister Sex Incest Reddit Bukakke Mom Incest Story Reddit Bumpy Drive With My Sister Reddit Incest Story Cabin Incest Reddit Cabin Trip Incest Reddit Cassidy Klein Incest Captions Reddit Casual Show Reddit Incest Catholic Incest Reddit Caught Incest Reddit Caught My.mom and Brother Fucking Incest Reddit Changing Room Naked Sister Stories Site Reddit.com R Incest Childhood Incest Reddit Children of Incest Reddit Children of Incest Reddit Stories Childs Father is Emotionally Incest Reddit Clueless Incest Reddit Cold Podcast Incest Cartoon Reddit Comic Incest Reddit Common_throwaway_ Reddit Incest Conceived of Incest Reddit Confession Incest Mom Son Site Www.reddit.com Confession Incest Site Www.reddit.com Confession Mdma Incest Site Www.reddit.com Cory Chase Best Dirty Talk Reddit Incest Cory Chase Reddit Incest Cousin Boner Butt Reddit Incest Cousin Boner Butt Reddit Incest Cuddle Cousin Boner Butt Reddit Incest Spoon Cousin Cuddle Reddit Incest Cousin Incest Reddit Cousin Incest Site Reddit.com Covert Incest Reddit Crazy Incest Stories Reddit Creampie Incest Reddit Crusader Kings Ii Incest Only Challenge Site Www.reddit.com Crusader Kings Now This is Advanced Incest Reddit Cuckold Incest Reddit Cuckolding Dad Incest Reddit Dad Daughter Incest Role-play Reddit Dad Daughter Real Incest Reddit Daddy Daughter Incest Confessions Site Www.reddit.com Daddy Daughter Incest on Reddit Daddy Daughter Reddit Incest Daddy Daughter Reddit Incest Porn Daddy Son Incest Porn Site Amp.reddit.com Daenerys Jon Incest Reddit Dany Jon Incest Reddit Daughter Daddy Incest Reddit Daughter Father Incest Reddit Daughter Home College Incest Reddit Daughter Incest Audio Site Amp.reddit.com Daughter Incest Reddit Daughter Incest Reddit Stories Daughter Incest Video Reddit Daughter is Into Incest Reddit Daughter Real Amateur Video Incest Reddit Daughter Wants Dads Baby Incest Confession Site Amp.reddit.com Dennis and Dee Incest Site Www.reddit.com Destiny Incest Debate Reddit Dexter Incest Reddit Did Reddit Ban Incest Subreddit Difference Between Incest and Homosexuality Reddit Dirty Pen Pals Incest Site Www.reddit.com Dirty Talk Site Reddit.com R Incest_relationships Disney Nude Sibling Incest Comics Reddit Disney Sibling Incest Comics Reddit Do You Guys Think About Your Mother Incest Reddit Doctors Orders Overdeveloped Son Cock Hung Stud Incest Gonewildaudio Reddit Doctors Orders Overdeveloped Son Cock Incest Gonewildaudio Reddit Doctors Orders Overdeveloped Son Incest Gonewildaudio Reddit Does Incest Cause Retarded Children Reddit Does Incest Hapen Reddit Dogfart Incest Reddit Doomsday Preppers Incest Site Www.reddit.com Drawn Incest Reddit Dreams About Incest Reddit Drunk Gay Incest Porn Site Amp.reddit.com Dsughter Yoga Incest Reddit Effects of Brother Sister Incest Reddit Elena Koshka Incest Reddit Elrond Arwen Incest Reddit Emotional Incest Effects on Daughter Reddit Emotional Incest Reddit Encourages Incest Mom Reddit Eng Reddit Incest Ephraim and Eirika Incest Reddit Erotic Audio Reddit Incest European Incest Map Reddit F D Incest Reddit F S Incest Reddit F S Incest Site Www.reddit.com F4m Incest Asian Reddit F4m Incest Established Relationship Erotic Audio Reddit F4m Incest Relationship Erotic Audio Reddit F4m Incest Romance Erotic Audio Reddit Fake Incest Porn Legal Reddit Fake Incest Porn Reddit Fake Incest Porn Reddit Legal Fake Incest Reddit Fake Incest Story Reddit Fallout Incest Site Reddit.com Family Incest Comic Reddit Family Incest Reddit Family M0vie Nights Incest Reddit Family Nudism Incest Reddit Family Strokes Reddit Incest Familystrokes Reddit Best Incest Famous Reddit Stories Incest Famthrowaway Incest Reddit Father and Son Incest Reddit Father Daughter Incest Porn Reddit Father Daughter Incest Reddit Father Daughter Son Incest Comics Reddit Father Daughtern Incest Reddit Father Son Incest Captions Reddit Father Son Incest Reddit Father Son Incest Site Reddit.com Father Son Incest Stories Reddit Favorite Incest Porn Reddit Femboy Incest Reddit Ff4m Incest Erotic Audio Reddit Fifi Foxx Real Incest Reddit Fire Emblem Caineghis Incest Reddit Fire Emblem Fates Incest Reddit Fire Emblem Heroes Incest Jugdral Reddit Fire Emblem Heroes Julia Seliph Incest Reddit Flims With Taboo Incest Reddit Forced Incest Reddit Found Others Incest Reddit Free Incest Comics on Reddit From Up on Poppy Hill Incest Reddit Fuck Daughter Site Reddit.com R Incest Fucking My Mother Photos Reddit Incest Futanari Incest Reddit Game of Thrones Incest Dany and Jon Reddit Game of Thrones Incest Reddit Game of Thrones Incest Stats Reddit Gay Brother Incest Porn Reddit Gay Brother Incest Reddit Gay Brother Incest Site Www.reddit.com Gay Brothers Cock Incest Reddit Gay Brothers Incest Reddit Gay Dad Incest Reddit Gay Dad Son Incest Reddit Gay Daddy Incest Reddit Gay Daddy Incest Verbal Site Www.reddit.com Gay Father Son Incest Reddit Gay Incest Ama Site Www.reddit.com Gay Incest How Common is It Reddit Gay Incest on Reddit Gay Incest Porn Reddit Gay Incest Porn Reddit Eddit Gay Incest Porn Site Reddit.com Gay Incest Reddit Similar Gay Incest Reddit.porn Gay Incest Roleplay Chat Site Www.reddit.com Gay Incest Roleplay Reddit Gay Incest Site Reddit.com Gay Incest Stories Reddit Gay Incest Video Reddit Gay Porn Incest Reddit Gay Porn Plot.incest.reddit Gay Reddit Incest Genetics of Jon Snow and Daenerys Incest Math Reddit Gey Incest Reddit Gia and Noma Hill Incest Reddit Girlfirned Wants to Roleplay Incest Reddit Girlfriend Wants to Roleplay Incest Reddit Girls Into.incest Reddit Gm Gs Incest Site Www.reddit.com Gonewildaudio Big Sister Little Brother Incest Site Www.reddit.com Good Incest Book Reddit Google Reddit Incest Got and Incest Reddit Grandma Incest Captions Reddit Grandma Incest Reddit Grandma Incest_gifs Reddit Grandmother Incest Reddit Grope Daughter Sleep Reddit Pill Incest Groped My Daughter Sleep Reddit Depression Incest Groped My Daughter Sleep Reddit Incest Groped My Daughter Sleep Reddit Pill Incest Growing Up Incest Reddit Guilt Free Incest Reddit Habsburg Incest Reddit Harper Und Max Incest Site Www.reddit.com Have Incest Site Reddit.com R Gonewildaudio Have Incest Site Reddit.com R Incesterotica Having Incest Site Reddit.com R Gonewildaudio Hentai Daughter Incest Reddit Hentai Incest Porn Comics Reddit Hentai Incest Reddit Hentai Reddit Incest Heterochromia Incest Site Www.reddit.com Home Coming Feminization Incest Reddit Homemade Incest Reddit Homosexually Vs Incest Reddit Hottest Incest Porn Reddit How Common is Incest in Alabama Reddit How Far Apart Before Incest is Bad Reddit Https Amp.reddit.com R Incest Comments 1ucjrq Any_accidental_incest_stories Https Amp.reddit.com R Incest Comments 23t3gy Bs_older_sister_younger_brother Https Amp.reddit.com R Incest Comments 32eimw G_real_incest_tumblr_blogs Https Amp.reddit.com R Incest Comments 4ydmpc G_whats_your_favorite_incest_plot Https Amp.reddit.com R Incest Comments 6z63gz Ms_mom_watched_me_masturbate Https Amp.reddit.com R Incest Comments 7mh193 Bs_my_sisters_lotion_pt_2 Https Amp.reddit.com R Incest Comments Y6i4i Real_twincest Https Amp.reddit.com R Incestporn Comments 2ugnlp Real_incest_porn Https Amp.reddit.com R Incestporn Comments 40x3qg Confirmed_incest_porn Https Amp.reddit.com R Incestporn Comments 52tc7y Best_incest_websites Https Amp.reddit.com R Shadman Comments 4iwjy0 Incestables_page_30_steamy Https Old.reddit.com R Incest Https Reddit Incest Https Www.reddit.com R Gay Comments 20e78l Does_fatherson_incest_really_exist Https Www.reddit.com R Gayincest Comments 5d0xa7 Real_father_son_incest_stories Https Www.reddit.com R Incest Https Www.reddit.com R Incest a Https Www.reddit.com R Justnomil Comments 7dg4ux Emotional_incest Https Www.reddit.reddit Incest I Am a Child of Incest Reddit I Am a Product of Incest Reddit I Am an Incest Child Reddit I Am an Incest Person Reddit I Got My Daughter Pregnant Reddit Incest I Got My Mom Pregnant R Incest Reddit I Have Sex With My Son Incest Reddit I Think My Sister Likes Incest Site Www.reddit.com I Want My Brother's Baby Reddit Incest I Want to Have Sex With My Mom Reddit Incest I Want to Have Sex With My Son Incest Reddit


https://preview.redd.it/hi12z2jidon51.jpg?width=240&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=58b694abd3f4561fc1fc2c9e6555c6531df4459f
submitted by HaulA17Sep1l to u/HaulA17Sep1l [link] [comments]


2020.07.09 06:01 Justwonderinif The Keepers Timeline I

1896

1898
1903
1924
1921
1924
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
Timeline II >>
submitted by Justwonderinif to Timelines [link] [comments]


2020.05.18 04:25 baronweazle Black cabin masturbation

I’ve always loved solitude and hiking. So naturally when I went on a 6-week vacation to New Zealand, I went on a fair number of hikes. The most memorable one by far was the Abel Tasman inland Track. Unfortunately, it wasn’t my most memorable hike ever for its beautiful views of the surrounding nature. The reason I will never forget this hike is because it terrified me and has forever changed the way I look at the world.
It all started when all of my family and friends chipped in to give me a 6-week vacation in New Zealand, for my 25th birthday. I’d always wanted to go there, but I was the type who never acted out on such fantasies. Therefore, my sweet sister organized the fundraising to force me to fulfill my dream. I loved my friends and family dearly for this gift, my sister most of all of course. Hell, despite everything I still love all of them dearly for it.
My first weeks in New Zealand were absolutely fantastic. I saw all of the Northern Island. In New Zealand everywhere you look, or indeed snap a photo, you see the most breathtaking views of nature. The forests are huge and filled with an enormous diversity of trees. From Pines, to oaks and palm trees and any sort of tree in between. The cities are great too. Like Auckland, where more than one third of the population of New Zealand lives or the unique city called Rotorua; which Always smells like rotten eggs, because of al the active volcanic geysers. I hiked through many of these forests and visited all the cities. I also did the touristy thing and visited Hobbiton and saw Mount doom on the Tongariro Alpine Track. That last one also featured the most beautiful oddly colored lakes I’ve ever seen and a smoke blowing active volcano. But I digress I’m not writing this to tell all about my vacation.
My ordeal started after a couple of nights in Wellington. A great place to party. I woke up with an enormous hangover and missed my boat to the southern Island of New Zealand. I took the next boat. But now I had also missed the bus on the southern Island. A bus that only came twice a day. To make a long story short I had to start my hike the next day wholly unprepared, with my full 45 pounds of gear on my back and only one bottle of water.
The Abel Tasman Inland Track starts at the same point as the Abel Tasman Coastal Track. The latter of which is one of the most popular hikes in New Zealand. The coastal Track takes you around the mountain and beautiful forest, over the beaches. The inland track however takes you right through the forest over the mountain. It is only suitable for experienced hikers and is as obscure as its coastal sibling is popular. It sounded right up my alley.
I started the hike and after about an hour of walking I reached the split into the inland track. Within half an hour I started to think I had made a mistake. The inland track was one long difficult path upwards. The sun was blazing and the 45 pounds on my back felt heavier by the minute. One hour in I finished my last drop of water. At least I had the beautiful vistas to power on. Or so I thought. Soon I stepped into the forest. It was beautiful as well of course. It felt like you were walking through Jurassic Park. But still after a while you got used to it. Dehydrated, sweaty and sore all over I ploughed through. To make matters worse I now had to hike through the thickest mist I had ever seen too. They say the human body is made up of up to 6o% of water. Between all the fog and sweat my body felt like it contained at least 80% of water. Yet I was still dying of thirst too. I seriously started to question my love of hiking. Hell, I was on vacation, I could be in a nice hot spring or cozy hotel room right now.
After hours of hiking uphill, while cursing myself, I finally reached the first hut. This wasn’t the shelter where I could sleep for the night mind you. But it was a clear spot with a breathtaking view and there was water. I eagerly boiled some water over my camping stove, while taking a rest and enjoying the view. After the water had been boiled and cooled down enough, I filled up my bottle and drank the rest until the final drop. Re-energized by the water, sun and rest I felt better about hiking again.
Within another half hour I hated hiking again. Once more I was climbing through the misty forest and the climb was getting steeper and steeper. Eventually I even had to climb a few parts of trees. The only time I’ve ever had to do that on a hike. Sore and almost broken I hardly noticed the path finally becoming straighter again. I did however notice the shelter at the end of the path. It almost looked like a mirage, so relieved was I to see it. As I came closer I was even hit with a love for hiking harder than ever before. Never had a hike been so painful. But never had reaching a shelter felt so rewarding afterwards. You only remember the good stuff, afterwards right? How wrong I could be.
The hut itself was very basic. It had eight mattresses, a woodfire stove, a door, a window and a chair. Simple and adequate, perfect for the night. It was on a beautiful spot on top of the mountain. It felt like one of the most beautiful places on earth and I had it all for myself. Hell come to think of it, when this night would be I wouldn’t have been around any other human being for a full 24 hours. All the earlier hardship seemed to be worth the effort by far.
I gathered some firewood and enjoyed a well-deserved rest in the last hour of sunlight. Afterwards I made a fire in the stove and heated up some beans and instant noodles. I went outside. I have never seen so many stars in the sky as I saw on top of that mountain that night. Mesmerized I gazed at them for probably hours. When I finally got out my trance I decided to take a piss and go to bed.
Wait, since this is a confession of something I’ve never told anyone ever before let me be perfectly honest. Feeling good, alone and free out in nature I masturbated under the starlight. When I was about to finish I was startled by a rustling of some trees close by. My heart beat so fast, I thought I was having a heart attack. Frozen I peered into the darkness in the direction of the trees that had made the rustling noise. There wasn’t any noise anymore. It stayed eerily quiet. When my heart reached a somewhat normal rate again, I pulled up my pants and quickly went inside.
I couldn’t fall asleep. Although it had remained quiet, I still felt uneasy. Suddenly I heard the faint noise of footsteps and cracking wood. The sounds came closer. It must be an animal. Even Though New Zealand doesn’t have much animals, you can still find cats, possums and deer all around. As well as a huge variety of birds. Some of which, like their national pride the kiwi, are quite big and walk instead of fly. So, it must be an animal I told myself. I caught my own lie instantly. I’ve never been a good liar.
The footsteps slowly circled around the house. It sounded heavier than most animals and it sounded bipedal. I was really getting nervous now. Who could be here at this time of night? There is only one way here. Well two if you count the road onward towards the next hut of course. But still it is a very remote area and it is definitely not easy to reach. No one would reach the place this late at night. Unless…Yes that had to be it. Someone else must have chosen the Inland Track like me, but probably got lost in the woods, because the track is so hard to follow. I almost got lost a couple of times as well. So yes, someone must have been lost and has finally managed to reach the shelter, I managed to somewhat convince myself of the lie this time. The best lies always contain a grain of truth they say.
The soft footsteps stopped. Frozen in bed I strained my ears for the faintest sound. All my senses seemed oversensitive. For a while it remained quiet. Then the footsteps started again. This time accompanied by a scraping sound against the side of the shelter. It was one continuous scrape that sounded like multiple things at once. The sound was horrible. It sounded like a set of claws.
Petrified I Huddled under the blankets like a little kid. For an agonizing while the scraping around the shelter continued. Then it just stopped. After a while I mustered up the courage to peer over the blankets. Slowly I started to scan the room. It was very dark, but it seemed okay and the sounds had stopped for a while. I guess it was gone. Whatever it was.
I hadn’t noticed it with my first look around. But as I relaxed and looked around once more I saw it. Someone was staring at me through the window. It was so dark and the figure stood so still it was hard to make out at first. But when I did see it, I could not unsee it. There it was, the silhouette of a face it’s features mostly indistinguishable, but for the eyes. The horrible piercing eyes with their ink black pupils. They were staring right at me. They seemed unhuman and they seemed to smile.
Once more I duck under my covers like I was five years old. Like the covers would do me any good against whatever was staring at me outside the shelter. Still it remained quiet. It is at times like these that the relativity of time becomes more evident than ever. Because I have absolutely no idea how long I waited this time. It may have been minutes, but could also have been hours, before I dared to peek through the blanket. When I did, there was nothing outside of the window. There were no more sounds.
I wasn’t going to sleep anymore this night. As soon as the first sunbeams of dawn would arise, I would get the hell out and hike on. If I would press on enough, and I certainly had the incentive to, I would make it past the next shelter and all the way to the end, back to civilization. I guess this prospect made me feel a lot better, because next I remember is waking up and immediately realizing I slept in pretty late.
Quickly I gathered all my stuff and got the hell out. The scratch marks were all over the side of the cabin. Long lines, none of them straight, but I could still make out five lines in a row each time. Four lines close to each other, the fifth one slightly higher. I moved on and didn’t look back.
At first, I still had the faint hope I could still reach the end of the trail that day. But The trail was even steeper and harder to climb and the hike of the previous day, not to mention the horrible night, had made me so sore progress was hard and slow. I soon realized I would have to sleep in the next cabin. Later I realized how stupid I had been. I’m always so goal oriented I only had the end of the trail in my mind. I should have just gone back to the beginning. It would have been a downhill hike. I probably would have checked into a hostel or hotel before dinner.
Angry at myself I pushed on. What else could I do. Great even more trees to climb. This was the toughest hike I’d ever been on. Still it did help to take my mind of the proceedings of the previous night. Also, truth be told, during daytime the forest didn’t feel eerie. It felt peaceful and every now and then there was a clearing and I was treated with a view worthy of a postcard in a tourist gift shop.
After a while I even began to rationalize. Perhaps it had just been a possum. The bastards are bold and have claws. Then my mind probably played tricks on me when I looked at the window. I sort of convinced myself that had happened. Besides the forest felt peaceful now, so even if it was something else, it couldn’t be following me now through this hard trail during daytime. I finally felt more at ease and climbed the hard trail. It was almost dusk when I finally reached the second shelter.
This shelter was larger than the first one. It wasn’t placed on a clearing on top of a mountain. This one was sheltered between huge and beautiful trees. I had dinner and put some extra wood in the stove, which also functioned as a heater. For a while I stared at the flames, hypnotized by their flickering patterns.
As it turned dark my faint hope for some fellow hikers to show up dissipated. I had looked forward to the solitude of this hike before I started it, but as the night turned darker fear slowly crept back into me and I really could have used some company. Thankfully it remained quiet however. Exhausted I plunged into bed.
I have no idea what time it was when I woke up. But I could already hear my elevated heart beating in the silence. It was coming again. I could feel it.
Sure enough it didn’t take long before I heard footsteps approaching in the distance. As they slowly neared the cabin, breaking twigs along the way, I braced myself for the scraping. But this time there was no scraping sound. The sound that followed was even worse. I was startled by the sound of a creaking door. The sound of the door of the cabin opening.
Scared to death I stared at the doorway. I saw the outline of a silhouette. I couldn’t quite make out it’s features but it seemed human. Maybe this was just another hiker arriving late. Please be another hiker!
Whoever it was just stood there in the doorway for the longest time. As my eyes adjusted a little, it seemed less human than I initially thought. It was very tall and lanky. Its legs were very long and thin, compared to its relatively short torso. Its arms were also thin and long. Like the arms of a primate. Suddenly it started to move inside the shelter. Petrified I turned around, shaking and facing the wall. I heard the footsteps move closer, as the floorboards creaked. Very close to me I heard more creaking of wood. Then it was silent again. I was so scared I seriously thought I was going to faint. I wish I had, at least I would have escaped this living nightmare.
I never did faint though. I just kept shivering, staring at the wall and my heart kept beating through my chest, like it was trying to break a record. All the while it remained quiet. Once more I lost track of time. But it felt like hours when I finally resolved, to take a quick peek. I slowly turned my head around to scan the room. I didn’t have to look around for long. It sat in a chair right next to me. I was so startled and petrified, both my body and mind froze. I could do nothing but stare at it. In the dim light of the glowing embers in the stove I could finally see some of its features. It was not human.
The creature was certainly akin to a human. But its thin bony body was covered in leathery skin. Its long face was ghastly. With a long crooked nose, pointy ears, a long chin and huge eyes, with piercing dark pupils. But worst of all was its mouth. It was enormous and filled with way too many pointed teeth. Even worse, was that it smiled at me. It didn’t move, it didn’t make a sound. It just sat there in the chair right next to me. Staring and smiling at me.
I felt like I was losing my sanity and could do nothing but stare back in shock at this demon or whatever creature this was. Then it startled me even more. The smile disappeared and the thing stared at me menacingly. It slowly hunched forward towards me and reached out it’s hand. I closed my eyes and braced for the worst. It touched my head and started to stroke it. I could feel its bony, leathery fingers crawl through my hair and all over the skin of my head. I could also feel its razor-sharp claws at the ends of his fingertips. Yet the strokes were so gentle and soft, it managed not to leave a single scratch. Somehow that made this whole ordeal feel even worse. What did it want from me?
The creature stopped stroking my head and I slowly opened my eyes. As it pulled back it’s hand it smiled at me again. It slowly got up and walked to the door. As it walked out it stood still in the doorway once more. It turned its head around to face me one last time. It looked at me even more menacing than before and put his finger in front of his lips. It then made the only sound I heard it utter, in a raspy voice it went;
“SHHH…...”
It smiled at me once more. But this time the smile was very menacing as well. Then it walked away. Frozen in the same position, I stared at the doorway for the rest of the night. Thankfully it never came back.
As soon as the sun started to set, I got up and sped out of the shelter. The hike was a lot easier, because I had to descend the mountain again and in record time I reached the end. Never have I been so glad to see other people again. I checked into an 8-person room in a hostel and stayed away from hikes for the rest of that vacation.
As years have gone by and nothing alike has ever happened to me again, my fear has thankfully grown less. Believe it or not I even started hiking again after a few years. Although nowadays I only do popular hikes. I still like some solitude during the daytime in nature, but before dusk I want to reach a shelter and be amongst other people. No more being alone in the wild at night for me. Not now, not ever.
I am an atheist and even though I really like the paranormal, I don’t really believe in any of that stuff. I think there’s a rational explanation for everything. But hard as I try, I can’t think of any rational explanation for what happened to me in New Zealand. I have no idea what that creature of thing was and moreover; What did it want?
Was it truly a kind demon? Some misunderstood creature longing for companionship? Or perhaps more likely something sinister. Whatever it was, it scared the shit out of me. Never before or since have I been so scared. Nor had I known such fear was possible. Hell, even now I’m writing this in the hope of giving it a resting place. Yet so far it has only helped me to feel scared all over again. So scared in fact, that my mind is playing tricks on me. Because I’ve had the feeling something has been circling my house for a while and right now I could swear I’m hearing the scraping sound again.
submitted by baronweazle to nosleep [link] [comments]


2020.05.15 18:08 Misdreamer Black cabin masturbation

We're finally back on track! And it only took me almost 3 weeks, goddamnit. I wanted to do batches of 5 chapters, but this seemed pretty long already so I cut it in half. Next part should only be a couple days up to chapter 10.
Link here to last part, if you want the others just search for them, the title is always the same.
Now, let's start with a short summary of each chapter.
Chapter 5
Harry buys some stuff (furniture, books and more kits for collecting stuff from the basilisk), and starts making a new basilisk in the chamber with the knowledge he got from the horcrux. He tricks Dumbledore into thinking he's learning healing and light magic by buying books on those topics for a few reasons, like appeasing him so that he doesn't start calling Harry dark and shoring up lacunae in Tom's knowledge since he focused on dark arts. He sends some letters to misdirect Dumbledore, while apparently having already sent the important ones during his trip to the ministry.
Shifting gears to actually doing stuff rather than wanking himself about his plans, he goes to the Ravenclaw common room, showing off the diadem, the sword of Gryffindor and Helga's cup, and announces that Luna is under his protection and that he plans on making a study group for everyone in a month or so. Everyone is suitably impressed.
Hermione is used as a convenient tool for exposition on how he plans to change his public persona, Ron is derided as a fake friend only after his fame with the usual arguments (the cabins in first year weren't full so Ron lied, the Weasleys being conveniently outside the platform for him), he hints at her that someone (Dumbledore) is evil.
Finally, one of his plans is revealed - Bellatrix escaped Azkaban thanks to a letter he sent her, which had an invisible rune that contained Pettigrew's wand. The letter is sent from 'Voldemort', and gives her the mission of protecting Harry, ostensibly because 'Voldemort' wants to use him in a possession ritual. He also says he took some stuff from her vault, including the cup, as necessary for the ritual.
Apparently this chapter was rewritten - in PL's words in the author's notes, he wasn't happy with the first draft as he actually ventured into angst, whatever that means.

Chapter 6
It starts with Harry mentally masturbating thinking to himself about how similar Riddle and Dumbledore really are, with a side dish of examining the four Hogwarts' Houses and how they relate to dark lords. Despite basically debunking his own theory of 'dark' meaning selfish by virtue of Hufflepuff existing, he just shrugs and says fuck Hufflepuff, completely invalidating any pretense at thoughtfulness he may have had before then.
After the first class with Hagrid (no incidents mentioned), Harry is accosted by Bellatrix Lestrange. He fakes being possessed by making his eyes glow red and imitating Tom, ordering her to replace Filch through Polyjuice (that he apparently pulled out of his ass), so that she can be kept around. She agrees, and asks him if she can kill Snape. He lets her, as long as it won't mess with the deception, all the while internally musing how Snape is completely loyal to Voldemort, and how Dumbledore knows it, and how similar the two 'dark lords' really are. He also plans to paint the real Voldemort as an impostor.
Harry goes in the dungeons looking for all storerooms full of treasure, a relic of the times before wizards became spineless and gave up the economy to the goblins, and he gets his mitts on the Goblet of Fire which apparently has many useful powers that Dumbledore has probably already made use of for himself.
On his way up, he stops by the infirmary for no reason whatsoever where he finds Draco, Goyle and Crabbe unconscious and with all the bones in their bodies broken. He muses for a bit about how they are guaranteed to become Death Eaters in the future, then casts some spells at them and leaves. I'm gonna bet right now that it was him who did it with the time turner.
In the Great Hall, everyone wants to see the Founders' relics, since apparently he has taken to wearing them constantly. Ron and Hermione are angry at each other, as Ron asked if he could see her boobs too (from when Harry announced they were together to cover for Time Turner shenanigans) and she slapped him.
Apparently I lose the bet, as the trio were in the infirmary for being thrown off the train in the first chapter. Dumbledore and a group of aurors are waiting for them to wake up to get leads on who was responsible. Pomfrey is against waking them, since they are on painkillers and are still in horrible condition, but acquiesces to their request. Then, I shit you not, she slaps them awake with a fish. Give me a second, I need a break.
Ok, I'm back. The three are pretty incoherent, and start shouting stuff about the muggle dark lord Colonel Sanders and his accomplices that I'm too Italian to understand the reference of, which everyone there apparently take completely seriously. Malfoy manages to stick a chicken bone covered with something in Dumbledore, which makes the 'dark lord' black out.

Chapter 7
As usual, Harry is ruminating about his plans. He thinks to himself about how he used the time turner to live the day three times, this being the last of them, and how useful the invisibility cloak and Dobby are for slipping under Dumbledore's net. He also explains his plan for Malfoy's incident in the previous chapter, how he coated the bone in herbs and spices, put a single drop of basilisk venom on the tip, and also put a subtle dark curse on the bone, though he admits it's pretty unlikely this would kill Dumbledore.
The next day, Luna catches Harry before breakfast and brings him to a secluded room to talk in private. Here she lays out her plan to kill Lucius Malfoy (and possibly Narcissa, Draco and maybe Sirius) to gain access to the Malfoy fortune (her mother was Lucius' sister), and marry Harry to keep the Malfoy/Black alliance going after dissolving Narcissa's wedding. As a side benefit, Draco would lose most of his status. Her being a ditzy Ravenclaw is a facade, to appear harmless so that Malfoy Senior doesn't make her an 'accident' like her mother, but Harry placing her under his protection put her on everyone's radar. He says he has to think about it, mostly unsure about the marriage part, then instantly agrees to everything and starts calling her wife, with a brief thought of regret towards Hermione (whom he had started grooming).
Luna notes this (apparently she reads body language with the best of sociopaths) and decides he will also need a mistress to show off his wealth. Harry thinks about a few things, like how Voldemort sacrificed his sexual organs in exchange for eternal youth and the weaknesses of immortality rituals. They keep discussing his social standing and his fame as the BWL, and Luna proposes a plan to discredit Voldemort in the pureblood circles by fabricating evidence of him having a muggle grandfather. Harry counters by telling her about Riddle's story, saying they can easily track down evidence connecting Riddle to his muggle origins. This makes Luna horny.
In the author notes, PL shits on what he thinks canon Harry Potter is about - I would go and read this, because it's quite interesting to see how deluded someone can be. Actually, I'll just paste it here.

Author's Notes:
One insane idea is good, but they get so much more interesting when they can bounce reflections off each other in kaleidoscopic arrays!
Harry Potter is one of those universes where catastrophe gets piled upon disaster for the main character and the abuse never seems to stop. Most of the victories he gains are just to have one source of pain or another stop for a short amount of time.
He is outnumbered, outclassed, not given space to maneuver, and those he counts as allies all turn on him to one degree or another: Dumbledore won't listen, Ron has gotten angry and/or jealous enough several times to cut lose their friendship, Hermione picks Ron over Harry, and Ginny is at best a minor character who has little impact, while all of the adults of their acquaintance are Dumbledore's servants first, and Harry's friends a distant second.
That is a world that requires serious powerups on the side of Light just to stay even, and I find it both wonderfully refreshing, and desirable in every aspect to see it happen.
Having Harry achieve something without getting hospitalized for weeks doing so is a wonderful change from the original material.
Of course, I love to see the light triumphant in any universe.

LINELINELINELINELINELINELINE

Ok, let's start the nitpicking thoughtful critique.
Already, we're seeing inconsistencies with how time travel works. We see Harry being worried about meeting his time doubles, when in previous chapters he literally waved at one. On the other hand, the concerns about paradoxes is waved off in the same sentence as being for Hermione's sake, so who knows if we're actually supposed to take it seriously or not.
Harry knows how to make a basilisk from Tom's memories, but I'm gonna bet we're never going to see Voldemort with a basilisk. Or mentions of him using a basilisk at all. Why isn't Nagini a basilisk?
The Dark Mark strips away any and all mental defences apparently. So either Snape is actually on Voldemort's side, or Voldie just didn't care. From chapter 7, Snape is confirmed to be on Voldemort's side and working against the Order, though Dumbledore keeps him around for vague nefarious reasons.
Voldemort knows about the Black Library through reading Regulus' mind, but doesn't know much about its contents since Reggie wasn't very studious. There is no mention of Bellatrix, Narcissa, or even of Walpurga here.
Parading with the Founders' artifacts is straight up moronic. They have been lost for centuries, so it should definitely make a big stir that they were found again. The diadem and the cup especially, since all it takes is someone selling the news to a newspaper for it to get to Voldemort, and at that point he would know that his horcruxes are compromised. Bellatrix would have been a problem too if word got out that Harry Potter had the cup that was supposedly taken by Voldemort from her vault, but apparently that's resolved by simply making her an idiot.
Ron's bashing continues and is now acknowledged by Harry and Hermione, but it's still more of a gradual shift towards excluding him from the group rather than Sasuke-tier 'castrate him and steal his eyes' kind of stuff. It's totally going to get there, it's just that without the time loop stuff things at least have to have a pretense of consequences mattering until the author has gaslighted the readers enough for them to accept it.

For some more general criticism, it's really tiring how preachy this fic is. It seems like half the writing is just Harry thinking about his plans, and there is way too much exposition geared towards the readers on aspects of the books the author doesn't like, or some headcanon he simply can't think of a way to insert in the narrative. Some are pretty interesting, like the tangent on Voldemort's immortality, but it's just so boring to read half a chapter every time of Harry thinking to himself rather than doing anything. Especially since he's constantly repeating himself.
Another thing that bothers me is the constant delaying of payoffs. Every time something happens, Harry will do something mysteriously that will be explained later in the chapter, or more commonly at the start of the next one. I would be fine with this constant guessing game if it was handled more like a mystery, but it doesn't work for two reasons: first, we spend so much time exploring Harry's thoughts that the constant censoring feels artificial; second, the consequences of his actions are so poorly connected with what he actually does that the whole thing, thinking with the benefit of hindsight, makes little sense. The second one is probably the worst - it's not something easy to catch on a first read, especially if someone isn't paying attention and is taking what the author writes at face value.
As an example, let's take his attack on Dumbledore through Malfoy. The action and the (supposed) payoff both happen in chapter 6: in the infirmary, Harry casts some spells on Draco and his goons, and later Dumbledore and the aurors are misled about the attack by the Colonel Sanders stuff, and in the confusion Dumbledore gets hit by basilisk venom and a subtler dark curse. The explanation on the other hand, is in the next chapter: he thinks about what he did and why he did it - the spices are a diversion for the venom, and the venom is itself a diversion for the curse. The Colonel Sanders stuff is to muddle the waters, introducing a fictional third player to which to attribute the attack to.
Why, it sounds positively smart of him! Such a multi-layered plan.
Now, this doesn't work on multiple levels. First off, by putting the explanation after the payoff, you make the reader mistake what the payoff actually is. Until I read the explanation, I thought the Colonel Sanders stuff was the bit to focus on, but instead the important part is the curse, which is only introduced in Harry's thoughts in the following chapter. Second, well, is Colonel Sanders. Malfoy got thrown off the train by some unnamed students, and then got mindfucked by Harry into believing the existance of a muggle dark lord. But the whole concept of it is so mind-bogglingly stupid that no one would believe it - think about it, a muggle and his two conspirators entered the train unnoticed by everyone, waited on it for hours (during which time the train was searched by Dementors, that muggles cannot see), and their only move was to pick three 14 years old kids and throw them off the train before vanishing into thin air. But apparently everyone is just that stupid. Third is, Harry's plan requires a very specific set of events that are pretty easy to derail - Dumbledore has to be nearby when Malfoy is awakened and close enough that he can be stabbed, absolutely nobody has to do anything while Draco's trashing around semi-delirious from the pain so that he isn't restrained. Crabbe and Goyle don't even factor into anything, despite a quick mention of them being there.
The whole plan could come down as soon as Dumbledore reads the minds of any student who was involved in it, and he's explicitly called out as routinely using legilimency on the staff at the very least. That would tell him Sanders isn't real, so he would be more suspicious of mindfuckery and Harry's objective of laying low would have backfired.
This fic is infuriating. If someone presented it to me as lowkey crack I would believe them. There are just parts of the narrative that simply don't make sense, and the author doesn't even care to explain. The most blatant being Malfoy and company being thrown off the train for laughing at Harry, and again Pomfrey waking them up by slapping them with a fish. It's like the author wants the fic to be taken seriously, except on those very specific parts (whether it's just something about Malfoy or a coincidence I don't know yet).

Let's give a parting shot. Why are goblins evil? Hagrid says they aren't 'friendly', and he loves all kinds of dangerous beasts like acromantulas and dragons, so it's obvious that goblins are the most evil creatures in the world. Flawless logic, as expected by PL.
Goblins aren't people in his mind, they are animals ruled by their urges. That explanation was honestly sickening to read.
submitted by Misdreamer to HPfanfiction [link] [comments]


2020.04.07 10:21 OnlyHere4ZEMemes Black cabin masturbation

Confession of my life

I have had a very very hard time processing the things that happened that night. I have told a very small number of people about this event, some being very close to me, other's being complete strangers I emotionally spewed my deepest darkest secrets too during either a drunken stupor, or an amphetamine bender fueled rant. However, I've never felt comfortable enough with any of those individuals to fully divulge on the things I've trouble understanding. Ok, I'm just going to start getting right into what I've got to get off my chest.
I'm going to ask you all right now, before you continue ready any further to please please leave any type of judgmental mindsets or hurtful words out of the comments. It's taken me almost 10 years to finally shed some light on my fucked up perception of this event.

Okay, right about now you're probably wondering to yourself just what the hell it is that happened to me. Well, here it is. At the age of 14, I had weaseled my way into my mother's purse and discovered a full prescription of Tramadol 50 mg, snatched it. My mom and step-father woke me up the next morning asking where they went, I lied, etc etc... Unimportant details... Needless to say they kicked me out and I went, for the first time ever, to actually live with my father. My father and I were never close for a vast variation of reasons, he was at the time going through a divorce and was staying at our family hunting camp.

Fast forward two months

It's hunting season and my father's hunting friend Donny, who also happens to be the father of a girl I was relatively close with growing up, was at our cabin for the start of rifle hunting season. It was just after nightfall, Donny, my dad, and I were playing Rummy 500. They were drinking beers, which was nothing uncommon of my dad, he was known to put away at least three quarters of a 24 pack of Budweiser a day.
As these things usually go, my dad ran short of Bud's, so he decides he's going to venture out for more. Now it's most certainly passed the hour beer distributors close their doors, so dad would have to hit a 6-pack shop. Our cabin was located at least 45 minutes to an hour from the closest establishment that sold carry out beers, so he was going to be gone for quite some time. He asked me if I wanted to go with before asking Donny, not thinking I had answered with a no. I was hoping they would both go and I could smoke on the half burnt Black&Mild's my dad would leave lie in the ashtray, and possibly find a few roaches or maybe a ball of resin in one of the drawers. That plan was quickly put to rest, Donny wasn't going.
I was pretty bummed that my dad's pal wasn't going to tag along on the beer run, but that was short-lived. No longer than 15 minutes after my dad had pulled up the driveway, Donny looks to me and asks if I want a beer and a cigarette. (Going to try to speed things up here, sorry.) I of course said yes to his offer, and a liberal amount of beer and light cigarettes later, I was feeling pretty loose and stupid. Donny mentioned something about these porno DVD's he has stashed away at his camper just a few miles away, and that we could probably make it there and back before my dad got back with the beer. I said why the hell not, the way he'd explained things we were simply making the trip to his camper, swiping the dirty DVD's, and headed back to my cabin. Boy, I have never been more wrong about something in my life.

One little detail that I have to throw in before I get to the point of all this wall-of-text, completely because I only just remembered that it even happened.

When we get into his piece of SHIT Ford Ranger, he tells me that I'm going to have to blow into the breathalizer in his truck. I asked him why the fuck I needed to do that, then mentioned the beers I drank and if they would matter or not. He said shit and that he had forgotten about that, so we waited about fifteen or twenty minutes and then I blew into it and vuala the ignition turned over. He then confessed that he was too intoxicated to drive and that it'd be better if I drove, and bribed me with a pack of smokes and the rest of the beer in his camper's fridge. So I drove us in this death-trap pickup truck, the 20 minute trip to his camper.
(Keep in mind this was almost 10 years ago, and I was intoxicated at the time, so my memory of exacts is a bit foggy.)

We walked up to the door he unlocked it, and we went in. He told me to have a seat on the couch, and said that we were gonna have a beer and a cigar and browse the first few minutes of a couple DVD's and decide which one's we should bring back with us. That lasted long enough for him to coax me into chugging what I remember to be at least four cans of Busch, I can remember being naseuos from the sheer volume of liquid in my stomach. So we're watching these porno DVD's, I obviously have a boner but the thought of getting it out to masturbate with this middle aged drunk dude beside me never crossed my mind. I glanced over at him and realized he had already unbuttoned his pants and started to grope himself. He then started asking me about girls I'd been with, how many, how "sexy" they were, how good they fucked, and then...his offensive strike...how good they sucked dick. I told him I wasn't really comfortable answering his question, and started to realize I may be in a dangerous situation. He asked this question just as the blowjob scene came on the television, almost as if he'd planned it all out. He then started talking about how "the women in the video probably weren't even very good at sucking cock anyway". He then turned to me and put his disgusting, callised, filthy hand on my errect penis and said "I bet I can suck cock better than those sluts, wanna see?" Before I could say yes or no, he was already working on getting my penis out and putting it in his mouth. I was so scared that if I tried to stop him or show signs of any discomfort that he might get aggressive or hostile with me, I had personally watched him consume at least twenty cans of beer. He sucked on my penis, and then got me into the bedroom and put his penis into my asshole. I have completely shattered my tailbone before, and when I tell you no pain compared to when he did that to me, I couldn't be more serious. He proceeded to dephile my teenage asshole, with nothing but a little spit to stop the friction. I hid my tears and bit the pillow in agony, waiting and praying for him to finish...and finish he did....inside of my body. He then pulled his filthy stinking penis out of me, and passed out in what had to have been less than 5 minutes, but felt like an eternity. We woke up the next morning, and acted like nothing ever happened. I don't know how he explained it to my dad, and I don't care.

Now, these are the things I usually tend to leave out of this story. I have, for as long as I can fucking remember, struggled with my sexuality. Growing up, my step-brother would threaten to tell his dad and my mother that I had started smoking pot and that I had it in the house, unless I would let him suck my penis or suck on his. At first, I was just extremely angry and doing it only because I couldn't afford to get into any more trouble, I'd already been stripped of almost all my childhood freedom. As the time passed by, we started doing it more and more and I started to enjoy the taboo pleasure of sucking my step-brother's cock. I had also been talked into sucking two of my older cousin's dicks during a family vacation to my Uncle's house in North Carolina, which I thoroughly enjoyed as well. What I'm getting at here guys is this, was I really molested?
Was I taken advantage of, or was I simply telling myself that I didn't enjoy any of it because it was the social norm I had been raised to be accustomed to? I was certainly in no way shape or form attracted to my dad's drinking and hunting buddy, so should I have turned him away, put up a fight? Or did I not attempt in any way shape or form to put a stop to his sexual advances because I was simply ok with it?
I am by no means a homosexual, I love everything about the female body, fat or skinny, tall or short, I love em all. I don't even know if I'm bisexual either. Please someone, anyone, weigh in here. Give me your honest opinions, as kindly and sensitively as you all possibly can.
Thanks so much for taking the time to read this.


submitted by OnlyHere4ZEMemes to confessions [link] [comments]


2020.04.02 04:02 BOBULANCE Black cabin masturbation

**\*Cards Against Humanity Coronavirus Box\***

The CAH Coronavirus Box is a timely and contagiously fun addition to your custom deck. Compiled from an undistinguished mix of original cards, shamelessly stolen and furthermore uncredited cards from across the Internet, cards from the official Cards Against Humanity AI, and official cards from existing decks, this is the perfect deck to ride out the apocalypse on a wave of laughter and depression. Many of the existing cards have even been tweaked to fit your pandemic survival needs, and almost all are guaranteed to be obsolete within a year (we hope).

The CAH Coronavirus Box is NOT designed to be played on its own, and is intended to be mixed with the base deck and existing expansions for the full experience. The deck is designed from a United States perspective in line with the perspective of the base game's creators.

To add this deck to your online XYZZY game, copy-paste the following command into your room's chat box:

/addcardcast EPU2Z

If you have a larger XYZZY base deck (5k white cards or more) and this pack's cards aren't showing up enough, use the duplicate version:

/addcardcast J7BUF

And now, the moment you've been reading for, the full list of included cards! See the comments for the black card list.

**WHITE**
$1,200 Trump Bucks.
20 tons of bat shit.
24-hour media coverage.
29 minutes of a rat-faced Englishman telling me sad facts.
400 of the required 30,000 ventilators.
50 mg of Zoloft daily.
A 3% mortality rate.
A 55-gallon drum of hand sanitizer.
A 7-hour decontamination bath.
A Catholic priest that actually respects boundaries for once.
A Zoom sext.
A bad time to be a libertarian.
A barn that's perfect for storing human bodies.
A bidet.
A bunker full of canned goods and ammunition.
A cloud of joylessness and aerosolized virus particles that slowly encompasses the earth.
A cold and indifferent universe.
A complete inability to understand anyone else's perspective.
A compromised immune system.
A cough and a sudden urge to travel.
A cure for Coronavirus.
A dark future full of troubles.
A dead guy.
A deserted stretch of highway.
A doctor shortage.
A dream team of our nation's greatest scientific minds and Mike Pence for some reason.
A father and son fighting each other over the last scrap of bread.
A freshly-sorority-less sorority girl.
A full pantry, a warm bed, and advanced plumbing.
A full-on panic attack.
A fun, sexy, fatal time at Miami Beach.
A funeral home dumpster that's unfortunately full.
A global pandemic.
A gnawing sense of dread.
A grandma-sized coffin.
A grocery store receipt that would suggest I am a single man who loves Cheetos and pooping.
A hazmat suit full of farts.
A hooker with a heart of gold and a severe case of COVID-19.
A lab mouse that simply refuses to die.
A law that allows factories to dump toxic waste into children's mouths.
A legitimate reason to commit suicide.
A liberal bias.
A life expectancy of five days.
A lifetime of sadness.
A living wage.
A lone tumbleweed silently drifting down a vacant city block.
A long Zoom meeting with no obvious purpose.
A long, hard day of not being able to find work.
A long, unforgiving quarantine.
A low standard of living.
A motherfucking flamethrower.
A never-ending homework load.
A night alone with the kids.
A nurse but he's a man.
A penny, a chip, and a used napkin.
A perfectly secluded lake-side cabin where I can ride this thing out in peace.
A plague unto our people.
A plentiful toilet paper that gives splinters called tree bark.
A poop emergency.
A possible Chinese person.
A president who is just as fat and stupid as I am.
A protracted siege.
A proud first responder.
A radical rethinking of employment-based healthcare.
A rat with Coronavirus and a little hat.
A real bitch of a situation.
A severe breach of the Hippocratic oath.
A short dance so you won't think about the pandemic for 10 minutes.
A single-payer healthcare system.
A slow death.
A sterile, joyless, bland existence.
A test kit.
A tired and emotional mother of three.
A toxic family environment.
A trillion-dollar stimulus package.
A vastly superior healthcare system.
A very dead baby.
A video of a naked woman telling me nice things so I can masturbate despite my stress levels.
A way to live that is stable and satisfying called ‘moving to Canada’.
A web of lies.
A zero-risk way to make $1,200 from home.
Absolute certainty that I don't have Coronavirus.
Accepting the way things are.
Accidentally broadcasting an NSFW video to 5,000 people.
Actually contributing to this household instead of just sitting on your lazy ass all day watching Gilmore Girls reruns.
Actually dying.
Adequate medical equipment.
Advocating for the deaths of 2.2 million Americans.
Alienating my family members.
All but like 12 Americans living in poverty.
All my dead hopes and dreams.
All my dead sisters.
All my friends dying.
All of us. At home all day. Staring at the walls. Looking for answers.
All the bacteria in a Chuck-E-Cheese.
All these dead bodies.
Allowing mother nature to do her thing.
America's crumbling healthcare system.
An Asian, I think.
An Italian meatball with the singular drive to kill.
An abandoned Kmart parking lot just before dawn.
An alternate universe in which Coronavirus has successfully eliminated all human life.
An angry, vengeful God.
An entrenched class system.
An especially moist handshake.
An extremely fast-acting and convenient way to die called Coronavirus.
An old guy who's almost dead.
An old man passing away on a gurney.
An old man who just died.
An old people's home with little or no old people left.
An older man.
An unexpected end to America’s school shooting epidemic.
An unfortunate parade of misery.
Andrew Cuomo.
Another shit hitting a fan situation.
Another shitty year.
Anything Asian.
Asia.
Asians who aren't good at math.
Asking me to come over and fuck your husband and then I’m like, “no”. And you’re like, “why?” and I’m like, “haven’t you heard? We’re under quarantine.” And you’re like, “holy shit, what?” And I’m like, “yeah, it’s Coronavirus. It’s global now and killing everybody.” And you’re like, “good prank. How’d you know I’ve been technology free?” And I’m like, “Dianne, seriously, check the news.” And you’re like, “oh fuck. Fuck, you’re right. Oh God. It’s over. Humanity’s over.” And I’m like, “yeah.” And you’re like, “It’s horrible.” And I’m like, “Dianne?” And you’re like, “yes, Carol?” And I’m like, “do you still want me to fuck your husband?” And you’re like “yes, I would love for you to fuck my husband.” And then I sigh and come fuck your husband.
Ass eating.
Ass to mouth.
Asymptomatic spread.
Bad emotions I don't want.
Baffling incompetence.
Bearing with me as I learn how to use this new technology.
Becoming increasingly concerned.
Becoming sad forever.
Being Canadian.
Being a busy adult with many important things to do.
Being a little more appreciative.
Being a slave to the capitalist system.
Being blind but having super strength but having Coronavirus but being invisible.
Being chosen by God to die of Coronavirus.
Being horny and sad.
Being in a constant state of anxiety.
Being knowledgeable in a narrow domain that nobody understands or cares about, such as virology.
Being locked in a dog cage for a couple of days until we’re sure there’s no symptoms.
Being so sad all the time.
Being thankful your mom is alive and kicking.
Being too old for this shit.
Being totally out of touch with the rest of the world.
Being young and in love in New York City.
Being young and living in New York City.
Big Beefy baseball boys that are gone.
Big Italian women making the spicy sauce and dying of Coronavirus.
Big business, man.
Big pharma.
Big, smart money boys tap-tapping on their keyboards and tanking the stock market.
Bingeing and purging.
Bingo night!
Biochemical warfare.
Blaming the victim.
Blatant disregard of FDA regulations.
Blowing up a hospital.
Boarded up buildings.
Burying my only son.
Bustin' into tears.
Buying all the Chef Boyardee in order to survive.
Buying and returning clothes just to have someone to talk to.
Buying healthcare stock and laughing all the way to the bank.
Buying virtual clothes for a Sim family instead of real clothes for a real family.
COVID-19.
Calculating the next masturbation window.
Calling mom because it's just really hard and I miss her and I don't know anyone here.
Calling out my own name and slapping my own ass.
Cards Against Humanity.
Caring.
Casual dismissiveness.
Catching Coronavirus from an airport glory hole.
Catching Coronavirus.
Catching new and mysterious diseases from a dead bat.
Catching pneumonia and dying.
Ceasing to breathe.
Charades!
Cheap cruise tickets.
Cheating at Solitaire like a fucking loser.
Child abuse.
China.
Chinese people.
Civilian casualties.
Civilization.
Clearing a bloody path through Walmart with a scimitar to get the last box of Kleenex.
Clenched butt cheeks.
Closing my eyes for the last time.
Coaching the 7th grade girls' basketball team via Skype.
Collapsing in grief.
Collateralized debt obligations.
College.
Colony collapse disorder.
Coming down with Coronavirus.
Complaining about all the world's problems to my ball python, Worm.
Completely unwarranted confidence.
Congress' flaccid penises withering away beneath their suit pants.
Conservative talking points.
Constant weeping.
Contaminating stuff.
Contracting Coronavirus.
Corona and lime.
Coronavirus patients.
Coronavirus positive.
Coronavirus, but it’s an old Armenian hooker named Anahit.
Coronavirus-related fatalities.
Coronavirus.
Coughing in people's faces.
Coughing on old people.
Coughing parties.
Coughing up a Cheez-It®.
Coughing up last night's blowjob.
Crippling debt.
Crouching in a corner for the rest of my life.
Crowdfunding my daughter's bone marrow transplant.
Cruising along just below the poverty line.
Crying about the dead baby.
Crying and masturbating and crying some more.
Crying and shitting and eating spaghetti.
Crying in the shower.
Crying into a bottle of peach schnapps.
Cutting health funding.
Daddy's belt.
Darwinism.
Day drinking.
Dead parents.
Death on a scale that can only be described as "biblical".
Death.
Deceiving the American people.
Deciding who lives and who dies.
Defying health officials.
Delighting in the pain of others.
Depression.
Descending into madness.
Desperately hurling insults at Donald Trump as he absorbs them into his rapidly-expanding body.
Dining with cardboard cutouts of the cast of "Friends".
Disease.
Disrespecting the elderly.
Doctors.
Doing your civic duty: nothing.
Donald Trump's latest fucking thing.
Donald Trump's strange and narcissistic behavior.
Donning gas masks.
Downplaying the apocalypse.
Drinking a bottle and a half of cough syrup and going into shock on the bathroom floor.
Drinking alone.
Drinking away my dead son's college fund.
Drinking enough alcohol to enjoy life for a few hours.
Drinking one last beer with Grandma before she dies.
Drinking white wine, dancing around the living room, and yelling at my children.
Drive-thru liquor stores.
Driving to a Walmart parking lot and staring into the distance for eight hours.
Dropping dead.
Dropping like flies.
Dry cough, fever, tiredness, and difficulty breathing.
Dry heaving.
Dubious pseudoscientific nonsense.
Dying a virgin.
Dying alone and in pain.
Dying at 20.
Dying of Coronavirus.
Dying.
Eating a fucking raw ass bat.
Eating a small dinner and then lying down again.
Eating alone in front of the television.
Eating bugs to survive.
Eating green vegetables and staying under 25.
Eating soup in the nude.
Emerging from the sea and rampaging through Tokyo.
Emotional unavailability.
Emotions.
Empty shelves.
Ending the world.
Endless fields of corpses.
Endless stress.
Enough idiots to cause a serious public health crisis.
Erratically explaining that some races are more responsible for the pandemic than others.
Even more money.
Everybody getting killed except for Kanye.
Exercise, if that's a thing.
Exposing the corrupting influence of money in politics.
Extra rations for my little girl.
Extracting the maximum amount of money from naive consumers.
Faith healing.
Fake news.
Falling over dead.
Family game night.
Famine.
Father's cough.
Father's dying words.
Fear mongering.
Feeling like your whole world is collapsing.
Feeling the future is hopeless and there will be no world for our children.
Feeling unsafe.
Feeling what not having hope feels like.
Filing for unemployment.
Finally appreciating doctors.
Finally understanding agoraphobia.
Finding the strength to go on.
Five morons signing a lease together.
Flatlining.
Flattening the curve.
Forcing a handjob on a dying man.
Forgetting everything you know about household cleaning products.
Forgetting to breathe and then dying.
Fox News.
Frantically writing spread rate equations on a chalkboard.
Freaking out and shit.
Free two-day shipping with Amazon Prime.
French fries that remind me of my dead father, who loved french fries.
Fresh Air with Terry Gross.
Fucking a corpse back to life.
Fucking my sister.
Fucking my wife.
Fucking over future generations.
Fucking up America's budget.
Full-on socialism.
Funding science.
Galloping around the hospital.
General unhappiness.
Generally having no idea what's going on.
Generational wealth.
Gently smothering an old man.
Genuine human connection.
Getting Coronavirus.
Getting Mommy another beer.
Getting back to work.
Getting bitten by a radioactive spider and catching Coronavirus from it.
Getting caught outside by the police and going to jail.
Getting depressed and super fat.
Getting down to business to defeat the virus.
Getting eaten out while on the phone with Dad.
Getting evicted.
Getting high with mom.
Getting laid off.
Getting the life-changing news that Grandma is alive and well.
Getting your ass ate.
Giving Coronavirus whatever it wants so it leaves us alone.
Giving Dad a call.
Giving a man a steak and sending him on his way.
Giving it a good scrub to make sure all the dirt is gone.
Giving one of those "microwave dinners" a whirl.
Giving up and going to Burger King.
Gluing dried macaroni to paper and mourning the loss of my son.
Going an entire day without masturbating.
Going cuckoo and drowning your kids in the bathtub.
Going inside at some point because of the pandemic.
Going into hiding.
Going outside and then remembering there’s danger and then going back inside.
Going outside.
Going too far with science and bad things happening.
Going viral.
Going with my gut and spending all my money on hand sanitizer.
Good ol' fashioned face-to-face conversation.
Grandma's big, beady eyes.
Grandma's toothless gums slapping together.
Grandma.
Grandpa's ashes.
Grandpa's frail, bony fingers.
Grandpa's shriveled body.
Guaranteed respiratory failure.
Gulping some hand sanitizer.
Having $57 in the bank.
Having a full-on mental breakdown.
Having a strong opinion about Obamacare.
Having a tummy ache.
Having difficulty coping with the death of a loved one.
Having fun, but not for very long.
Having no idea how to use an electric grill.
Having no idea what the fuck is going on.
Having the audacity to breathe.
Having to leave your family behind.
Healthcare.gov.
Helping the elderly.
Hoarding toilet paper like some kind of weak-rectumed dragon.
Holding Kyle's hand, just for a second.
Holding up the line at Walgreens by trying to use an expired coupon.
Hom Tanks.
Home video of Oprah sobbing into a Lean Cuisine®.
Homeless people.
Hope.
Hospice care.
Hospitalizing thousands.
Hot doctors.
How boring the music has become.
How bright the sun is.
How cool it is to not have Coronavirus.
How cool it is to smoke cigarettes.
How horrible it is that people who have never experienced racism find ways to justify it.
How many Asians there are.
How nice Tom Hanks is in person.
How quiet the city is.
How sad it will be when Morgan Freeman catches Coronavirus.
However many old people we can afford to lose.
Huffing and puffing and succumbing to lung failure.
Human extinction.
Human lives.
Human trials.
Hungry, homeless college kids.
Hurting those closest to me.
Increasing economic and political polarization.
Indescribable loneliness.
Insider trading.
Insufficient serotonin.
Intense lung pain.
Ironically buying a trucker hat and then ironically being a trucker for 38 years.
Irritable Bowel Syndrome.
Isolation.
Italians.
Italy.
Jerking it off-screen.
Jobs.
Joe Biden.
Just going for a walk around the park.
Just sobbing.
Just the overall current state of things.
Killing anyone who steps foot on my property.
Killing civilians to own the Libs.
Kissing grandma on the forehead and turning off her life support.
Krispy Kreme Doughnuts.
Large groups.
Laying a lifetime of burdens on young children.
Leading a country to war on false pretenses.
Learning about new and exciting versions of reality within the confines of a re-education camp.
Letting Bernie Sanders rest his world-weary head on your lap.
Letting everyone down.
Letting everyone out of jail.
Letting pawpaw die.
Letting yourself go.
Liberals.
Licking everything and everyone.
Licking feet.
Licking the cake batter off of grandma's fingers.
Licking the toilet as Mistress commands.
Life.
Little Timmy's stubborn refusal to go outside.
Living by the sword and dying by Coronavirus.
Long-distance anal sex.
Losing a loved one to Fox News.
Losing grandma to Coronavirus.
Losing grandpa to Coronavirus.
Losing my son at 31.
Lying dead in the lobby of the doctor’s office.
Lysol.
Maintaining six feet of distance.
Making America great again.
Making Dad cry.
Making an example of this kindly old man here.
Making every possible mistake.
Many bats.
Mass graves.
Mass hysteria on a global scale.
Masturbating and crying and masturbating some more.
Masturbating to a porn star who's dead now.
Masturbating to my dead spouse's final voicemail message.
Mayhem, like me.
Me, an Asian man.
Men in ties talking all the time.
Moral bankruptcy.
More dead old people than I anticipated.
More soap!
Morphing into an ambulance.
My arsenal of maladaptive coping mechanisms.
My deepest condolences.
My frail, aging body.
My illegal stash of stolen N95 masks.
My lifeless corpse.
My little sister's deathbed confession.
My slowly draining sanity.
Naked Zoom night.
New York City.
Nodding solemnly, a vacant look in my eye, and acknowledging that we’re fucked.
Not only having dry heaves but also wet ones.
Not really caring about other people.
Not vaccinating my children.
Notifying next of kin.
Nurses.
One of those awesome lady nurses who understands your pain.
Only a very small number of survivors.
Only calling Mom to make sure she's ok.
Only caring about the short-term.
Only having 15 dollars to spend.
Only showering once a month.
Opening for business because we are a business.
Our capitalist overlords.
Our nation's darkest hour.
Our random and cruel universe.
Our shithole president.
Out-of-pocket expenses.
Paid leave.
Partying.
Peaking.
Perhaps the end of the human race.
Plague masks.
Planning my child's funeral.
Playing Cards Against Humanity until we're in physical pain.
Playing doctor.
Playing truth or dare with the kids.
Politicizing a tragedy.
Pooping in the shower and waffle stomping it down the drain.
Poorly-timed ventilator shortages.
Praying the virus away.
Praying.
Pretending I'm a doctor.
Pretending the Prozac is helping.
Pretending to be informed.
Prioritizing stoking racial tensions over the dissemination of accurate and life-saving information.
Putting poop back where it came from because we all know the cost of toilet paper these days.
Putting the elderly out of their misery.
Putting up with shit from your boss, but now it’s on Zoom.
Putting you out of your misery.
Quarantine.
Rampant fear and doubt.
Realizing it’s time for a divorce.
Realizing most of your social life consists of going out and spending money with people you hate.
Really fucking bad news.
Really putting a damper on things.
Refusing to believe that I am racist.
Rent.
Repeating history.
Repopulating the earth.
Restarting the economy.
Rethinking this whole ‘Capitalism’ thing.
Riding out the rest of existence in the sweet embrace of inanimate nothingness.
Risking one’s life for a pack of Oreos.
Rubbing pot roast on the screen door while my son licks it from the other side to avoid contact.
Rudy Giuliani's unfathomable incompetence.
Running out of toilet paper.
Running up to various homeless people and screaming "go home".
SARS.
Sacrificing Grandma to the Dow Jones.
Scoring cheap political points at the expense of the oppressed.
Screaming at the sky that this isn't real, that this isn't happening, that I need to wake up.
Screaming into the void.
Screaming through the phone at my piece of shit kid while trying to buy 98 things in the Walmart express lane.
Scrubbing my hands until they’re squeaky-clean.
Self-quarantine.
Shooting the first person who coughs.
Sighing in disapproval at the mention of China.
Sitting alone eating a kumquat.
Sitting in the agonizing comfort of your own home.
Sitting on Earth's largest couch.
Sitting on my son's bed thinking, "I could kill him".
Slowly going extinct.
Slowly reaching the limit of my tolerance.
Smiling half-heartedly.
Smothering the globe in soap bubbles.
So much winning.
Social distancing.
Social interaction.
Solidarity.
Solitude.
Some dude with a ponytail who talks about bureaucracy.
Some guy who isn't funny named Anthony Fauci.
Some pretty hardcore themes for a furniture commercial.
Soul-crushing silence.
Spending quality time at home with what remains of my family.
Spluttering and convulsing.
Spreading Communism to all who will listen.
Spreading undetected through the population.
Spreading.
Staring at a wall for a full eight hours.
Starting to get the hang of this whole "lawn care" thing.
Staying home every night, downloading increasingly shameful pornography.
Staying indoors.
Staying the fuck inside!
Steak night!
Sticking with Trump through it all.
Still being alive, I guess.
Still being on the fence about if I should have sex or not.
Stoking the flames of racism.
Stopping the spread of Coronavirus.
Storing nuts in my mouth for the next six months of quarantine.
Stress-eating 15 jars of Nutella®.
Succumbing to Coronavirus.
Sudden death!
Suddenly becoming a socialist.
Suffering.
Survival.
Suspiciously Asian noodles.
Takeout.
Taking my first dick in forever.
Taking this time appreciate one another and reevaluate our lives.
Tearfully masturbating to reruns of "The Daily Show".
Televangelists.
Telling Dad I love him.
Telling Grandma where I plan to bury her.
Telling a dying man to "get back to work".
Telling your partner you love him but you can't have sex with him right now.
Temporary socialism.
Testing negative.
Testing positive.
That hot uncle you never get to see anymore.
That time Dad was diagnosed with Coronavirus and died.
That wedding dress I never wore because the world ended.
The .01% of bacteria Lysol® is powerless to stop.
The CDC.
The Chinese Virus.
The Ching-Chong Ding-Dong Foundation for Sensitivity to Orientals or Whatever.
The Democrat’s greatest hoax: Coronavirus.
The Flu.
The New York stock exchange.
The SARS that took little Eustace this autumn past.
The Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918.
The Wuhan Flu.
The amount of poop one can produce in a day.
The apocalypse.
The bread lines.
The cobwebs in my vagina.
The cold, hard truth that death is near.
The comforting presence of a dog.
The darkened times after the fall of man when the birds chirp no more.
The days of yore.
The economy.
The elderly.
The end of America, at the very least.
The end of civilization.
The federal response to Coronavirus.
The feds.
The freak from that math problem who bought 42 watermelons but turned out to have the right idea.
The horror and confusion of watching Donald Trump do something right.
The hospital.
The human body.
The illusion of choice in a late-stage capitalist society.
The impending collapse of the middle class.
The impending deaths of millions of your fellow humans.
The importance of having fun.
The innate desire to drink alone.
The morbidly obese.
The morose marathon that is life.
The mouth area.
The novel Coronavirus.
The peaceful and nonthreatening rise of China.
The physical imperfection of an old man.
The piked skull of the last person who dared come within six feet of me.
The privilege of existing.
The profoundly handicapped.
The promise of a better tomorrow.
The pure joy of a dog whose parents are always home.
The rapidly shifting political landscape we face today.
The real pillars of society.
The reality that we're all going to die, and there will be no one to remember our stories.
The sadness that I feel.
The scientific process.
The second-best hospital in the area.
The shocking stupidity of the American public.
The struggle.
The survivors of President Trump's first term in office.
The three billion people living in extreme poverty.
The total collapse of the global financial system.
The truth.
The ungodly feats of efficiency that can be achieved when the rich fear consequences.
The untimely demise of my Italian trophy wife, Angelina.
The vacant streets and clear skies of Los Angeles.
The violation of our most basic human rights.
The wonders of science!
The wonders of the Orient.
The worst pain imaginable. Times two!
The wrath of God.
The wrong week to quit drinking.
There being too many people around to reasonably get naked.
These kleptomaniacal rich men who run our government.
Thinking about conserving food and then eating six cans of ravioli.
This almost-safe cruise ship.
This box I live in.
This cup in which I'm going to need a urine sample from you.
This dead body I found.
This disaster that nobody could have predicted except every health official and data-driven simulations.
This old lady next to me who won't stop coughing.
Those who survive.
Thoughts and prayers.
Three consecutive seconds of happiness.
Three months in the hole.
Throwing a tantrum and telling everyone not to touch you anymore.
Toilet paper. Anti-vaxxers.
Tolerating my family.
Tonic and gin.
Toppling large governments.
Total fucking chaos.
Totally ignorant and delusional opinions.
Totally ignoring your father's death wishes.
Totally ineffective political satire.
Totally unlearning all the baseball skills.
Touching all the microphones.
Touching everything.
Travelling.
Trillions of taxpayer dollars down the drain!
Trying to keep it together.
Trying to maintain some semblance of civility.
Trying to pass the time by painting a picture.
Trying to wake up from this nightmare.
Turning 32.
Turning poor people against each other so they don't pay attention to economic inequality.
Tweaking my nipples a little before breaking down and crying.
Tweeting.
Two bros chilling in a hot tub five feet apart because there’s a global pandemic.
Two cancelled tickets to "Hamilton".
Two hours on PornHub.
Two young lovers with nothing better to do.
Ugh.
Underestimating the stupidity of the average American.
Unfathomable stupidity.
Unnecessarily sensual Zoom messages.
Ushering in the apocalypse.
Using a FitBit to masturbate for 2 miles.
Using a Smucker's Uncrustable™ as a maxi pad.
Ventilators.
Vigilante justice.
Voter suppression.
War with China.
Wearing glasses and sounding smart.
Weeding out the old and sick.
Well-deserved Coronavirus.
What Dad has to say about Chinese people.
Whatever is necessary to make life satisfactory.
When I choke and choke and choke.
When government loses control.
Whichever one of you took a shit in the shower.
Whipping lower-class white men into a xenophobic frenzy.
Whiskey to calm my nerves.
Wifely duties.
Winking at old people.
Wiping down every surface.
Witnessing the decline of every industry.
Wondering if it's possible to get some of that salsa to go.
Wondering why white people love baseball so much.
Working from home.
Wrapping myself in a blanket and making a me burrito.
Wuhan, China.
Xenophobia.
Xi Jinping.
Yet another racist tweet.
Young students full of online education and debt.
Your corpse.
Your enduring love and support.
Your mother calling and saying she's had enough.
Zoom.
submitted by BOBULANCE to cardsagainsthumanity [link] [comments]


2020.04.02 03:53 BOBULANCE Unofficial COVID-19 Expansion

Cards Against Humanity Coronavirus Box
The CAH Coronavirus Box is a timely and contagiously fun addition to your custom deck. Compiled from an undistinguished mix of original cards, shamelessly stolen and furthermore uncredited cards from across the Internet, cards from the official Cards Against Humanity AI, and official cards from existing decks, this is the perfect deck to ride out the apocalypse on a wave of laughter and depression. Many of the existing cards have even been tweaked to fit your pandemic survival needs, and almost all are guaranteed to be obsolete within a year (we hope).
The CAH Coronavirus Box is NOT designed to be played on its own, and is intended to be mixed with the base deck and existing expansions for the full experience. The deck is designed from a United States perspective in line with the perspective of the base game's creators.
To add this deck to your online XYZZY game, copy-paste the following command into your room's chat box:
/addcardcast QX663
If you have a larger XYZZY base deck (5k white cards or more) and this pack's cards aren't showing up enough, use the duplicate version:
/addcardcast CZD7D
And now, the moment you've been reading for, the full list of included cards! See the comments for the black card list.
Edit: More cards are being added to the cardcast decks as this pandemic develops, including over 5 more black cards and over 40 more white cards not listed below.
**WHITE**
$1,200 Trump Bucks.
20 tons of bat shit.
24-hour media coverage.
29 minutes of a rat-faced Englishman telling me sad facts.
400 of the required 30,000 ventilators.
50 mg of Zoloft daily.
A 3% mortality rate.
A 55-gallon drum of hand sanitizer.
A 7-hour decontamination bath.
A Catholic priest that actually respects boundaries for once.
A Zoom sext.
A bad time to be a libertarian.
A barn that's perfect for storing human bodies.
A bidet.
A bunker full of canned goods and ammunition.
A cloud of joylessness and aerosolized virus particles that slowly encompasses the earth.
A cold and indifferent universe.
A complete inability to understand anyone else's perspective.
A compromised immune system.
A cough and a sudden urge to travel.
A cure for Coronavirus.
A dark future full of troubles.
A dead guy.
A deserted stretch of highway.
A doctor shortage.
A dream team of our nation's greatest scientific minds and Mike Pence for some reason.
A father and son fighting each other over the last scrap of bread.
A freshly-sorority-less sorority girl.
A full pantry, a warm bed, and advanced plumbing.
A full-on panic attack.
A fun, sexy, fatal time at Miami Beach.
A funeral home dumpster that's unfortunately full.
A global pandemic.
A gnawing sense of dread.
A grandma-sized coffin.
A grocery store receipt that would suggest I am a single man who loves Cheetos and pooping.
A hazmat suit full of farts.
A hooker with a heart of gold and a severe case of COVID-19.
A lab mouse that simply refuses to die.
A law that allows factories to dump toxic waste into children's mouths.
A legitimate reason to commit suicide.
A liberal bias.
A life expectancy of five days.
A lifetime of sadness.
A living wage.
A lone tumbleweed silently drifting down a vacant city block.
A long Zoom meeting with no obvious purpose.
A long, hard day of not being able to find work.
A long, unforgiving quarantine.
A low standard of living.
A motherfucking flamethrower.
A never-ending homework load.
A night alone with the kids.
A nurse but he's a man.
A penny, a chip, and a used napkin.
A perfectly secluded lake-side cabin where I can ride this thing out in peace.
A plague unto our people.
A plentiful toilet paper that gives splinters called tree bark.
A poop emergency.
A possible Chinese person.
A president who is just as fat and stupid as I am.
A protracted siege.
A proud first responder.
A radical rethinking of employment-based healthcare.
A rat with Coronavirus and a little hat.
A real bitch of a situation.
A severe breach of the Hippocratic oath.
A short dance so you won't think about the pandemic for 10 minutes.
A single-payer healthcare system.
A slow death.
A sterile, joyless, bland existence.
A test kit.
A tired and emotional mother of three.
A toxic family environment.
A trillion-dollar stimulus package.
A vastly superior healthcare system.
A very dead baby.
A video of a naked woman telling me nice things so I can masturbate despite my stress levels.
A way to live that is stable and satisfying called ‘moving to Canada’.
A web of lies.
A zero-risk way to make $1,200 from home.
Absolute certainty that I don't have Coronavirus.
Accepting the way things are.
Accidentally broadcasting an NSFW video to 5,000 people.
Actually contributing to this household instead of just sitting on your lazy ass all day watching Gilmore Girls reruns.
Actually dying.
Adequate medical equipment.
Advocating for the deaths of 2.2 million Americans.
Alienating my family members.
All but like 12 Americans living in poverty.
All my dead hopes and dreams.
All my dead sisters.
All my friends dying.
All of us. At home all day. Staring at the walls. Looking for answers.
All the bacteria in a Chuck-E-Cheese.
All these dead bodies.
Allowing mother nature to do her thing.
America's crumbling healthcare system.
An Asian, I think.
An Italian meatball with the singular drive to kill.
An abandoned Kmart parking lot just before dawn.
An alternate universe in which Coronavirus has successfully eliminated all human life.
An angry, vengeful God.
An entrenched class system.
An especially moist handshake.
An extremely fast-acting and convenient way to die called Coronavirus.
An old guy who's almost dead.
An old man passing away on a gurney.
An old man who just died.
An old people's home with little or no old people left.
An older man.
An unexpected end to America’s school shooting epidemic.
An unfortunate parade of misery.
Andrew Cuomo.
Another shit hitting a fan situation.
Another shitty year.
Anything Asian.
Asia.
Asians who aren't good at math.
Asking me to come over and fuck your husband and then I’m like, “no”. And you’re like, “why?” and I’m like, “haven’t you heard? We’re under quarantine.” And you’re like, “holy shit, what?” And I’m like, “yeah, it’s Coronavirus. It’s global now and killing everybody.” And you’re like, “good prank. How’d you know I’ve been technology free?” And I’m like, “Dianne, seriously, check the news.” And you’re like, “oh fuck. Fuck, you’re right. Oh God. It’s over. Humanity’s over.” And I’m like, “yeah.” And you’re like, “It’s horrible.” And I’m like, “Dianne?” And you’re like, “yes, Carol?” And I’m like, “do you still want me to fuck your husband?” And you’re like “yes, I would love for you to fuck my husband.” And then I sigh and come fuck your husband.
Ass eating.
Ass to mouth.
Asymptomatic spread.
Bad emotions I don't want.
Baffling incompetence.
Bearing with me as I learn how to use this new technology.
Becoming increasingly concerned.
Becoming sad forever.
Being Canadian.
Being a busy adult with many important things to do.
Being a little more appreciative.
Being a slave to the capitalist system.
Being blind but having super strength but having Coronavirus but being invisible.
Being chosen by God to die of Coronavirus.
Being horny and sad.
Being in a constant state of anxiety.
Being knowledgeable in a narrow domain that nobody understands or cares about, such as virology.
Being locked in a dog cage for a couple of days until we’re sure there’s no symptoms.
Being so sad all the time.
Being thankful your mom is alive and kicking.
Being too old for this shit.
Being totally out of touch with the rest of the world.
Being young and in love in New York City.
Being young and living in New York City.
Big Beefy baseball boys that are gone.
Big Italian women making the spicy sauce and dying of Coronavirus.
Big business, man.
Big pharma.
Big, smart money boys tap-tapping on their keyboards and tanking the stock market.
Bingeing and purging.
Bingo night!
Biochemical warfare.
Blaming the victim.
Blatant disregard of FDA regulations.
Blowing up a hospital.
Boarded up buildings.
Burying my only son.
Bustin' into tears.
Buying all the Chef Boyardee in order to survive.
Buying and returning clothes just to have someone to talk to.
Buying healthcare stock and laughing all the way to the bank.
Buying virtual clothes for a Sim family instead of real clothes for a real family.
COVID-19.
Calculating the next masturbation window.
Calling mom because it's just really hard and I miss her and I don't know anyone here.
Calling out my own name and slapping my own ass.
Cards Against Humanity.
Caring.
Casual dismissiveness.
Catching Coronavirus from an airport glory hole.
Catching Coronavirus.
Catching new and mysterious diseases from a dead bat.
Catching pneumonia and dying.
Ceasing to breathe.
Charades!
Cheap cruise tickets.
Cheating at Solitaire like a fucking loser.
Child abuse.
China.
Chinese people.
Civilian casualties.
Civilization.
Clearing a bloody path through Walmart with a scimitar to get the last box of Kleenex.
Clenched butt cheeks.
Closing my eyes for the last time.
Coaching the 7th grade girls' basketball team via Skype.
Collapsing in grief.
Collateralized debt obligations.
College.
Colony collapse disorder.
Coming down with Coronavirus.
Complaining about all the world's problems to my ball python, Worm.
Completely unwarranted confidence.
Congress' flaccid penises withering away beneath their suit pants.
Conservative talking points.
Constant weeping.
Contaminating stuff.
Contracting Coronavirus.
Corona and lime.
Coronavirus patients.
Coronavirus positive.
Coronavirus, but it’s an old Armenian hooker named Anahit.
Coronavirus-related fatalities.
Coronavirus.
Coughing in people's faces.
Coughing on old people.
Coughing parties.
Coughing up a Cheez-It®.
Coughing up last night's blowjob.
Crippling debt.
Crouching in a corner for the rest of my life.
Crowdfunding my daughter's bone marrow transplant.
Cruising along just below the poverty line.
Crying about the dead baby.
Crying and masturbating and crying some more.
Crying and shitting and eating spaghetti.
Crying in the shower.
Crying into a bottle of peach schnapps.
Cutting health funding.
Daddy's belt.
Darwinism.
Day drinking.
Dead parents.
Death on a scale that can only be described as "biblical".
Death.
Deceiving the American people.
Deciding who lives and who dies.
Defying health officials.
Delighting in the pain of others.
Depression.
Descending into madness.
Desperately hurling insults at Donald Trump as he absorbs them into his rapidly-expanding body.
Dining with cardboard cutouts of the cast of "Friends".
Disease.
Disrespecting the elderly.
Doctors.
Doing your civic duty: nothing.
Donald Trump's latest fucking thing.
Donald Trump's strange and narcissistic behavior.
Donning gas masks.
Downplaying the apocalypse.
Drinking a bottle and a half of cough syrup and going into shock on the bathroom floor.
Drinking alone.
Drinking away my dead son's college fund.
Drinking enough alcohol to enjoy life for a few hours.
Drinking one last beer with Grandma before she dies.
Drinking white wine, dancing around the living room, and yelling at my children.
Drive-thru liquor stores.
Driving to a Walmart parking lot and staring into the distance for eight hours.
Dropping dead.
Dropping like flies.
Dry cough, fever, tiredness, and difficulty breathing.
Dry heaving.
Dubious pseudoscientific nonsense.
Dying a virgin.
Dying alone and in pain.
Dying at 20.
Dying of Coronavirus.
Dying.
Eating a fucking raw ass bat.
Eating a small dinner and then lying down again.
Eating alone in front of the television.
Eating bugs to survive.
Eating green vegetables and staying under 25.
Eating soup in the nude.
Emerging from the sea and rampaging through Tokyo.
Emotional unavailability.
Emotions.
Empty shelves.
Ending the world.
Endless fields of corpses.
Endless stress.
Enough idiots to cause a serious public health crisis.
Erratically explaining that some races are more responsible for the pandemic than others.
Even more money.
Everybody getting killed except for Kanye.
Exercise, if that's a thing.
Exposing the corrupting influence of money in politics.
Extra rations for my little girl.
Extracting the maximum amount of money from naive consumers.
Faith healing.
Fake news.
Falling over dead.
Family game night.
Famine.
Father's cough.
Father's dying words.
Fear mongering.
Feeling like your whole world is collapsing.
Feeling the future is hopeless and there will be no world for our children.
Feeling unsafe.
Feeling what not having hope feels like.
Filing for unemployment.
Finally appreciating doctors.
Finally understanding agoraphobia.
Finding the strength to go on.
Five morons signing a lease together.
Flatlining.
Flattening the curve.
Forcing a handjob on a dying man.
Forgetting everything you know about household cleaning products.
Forgetting to breathe and then dying.
Fox News.
Frantically writing spread rate equations on a chalkboard.
Freaking out and shit.
Free two-day shipping with Amazon Prime.
French fries that remind me of my dead father, who loved french fries.
Fresh Air with Terry Gross.
Fucking a corpse back to life.
Fucking my sister.
Fucking my wife.
Fucking over future generations.
Fucking up America's budget.
Full-on socialism.
Funding science.
Galloping around the hospital.
General unhappiness.
Generally having no idea what's going on.
Generational wealth.
Gently smothering an old man.
Genuine human connection.
Getting Coronavirus.
Getting Mommy another beer.
Getting back to work.
Getting bitten by a radioactive spider and catching Coronavirus from it.
Getting caught outside by the police and going to jail.
Getting depressed and super fat.
Getting down to business to defeat the virus.
Getting eaten out while on the phone with Dad.
Getting evicted.
Getting high with mom.
Getting laid off.
Getting the life-changing news that Grandma is alive and well.
Getting your ass ate.
Giving Coronavirus whatever it wants so it leaves us alone.
Giving Dad a call.
Giving a man a steak and sending him on his way.
Giving it a good scrub to make sure all the dirt is gone.
Giving one of those "microwave dinners" a whirl.
Giving up and going to Burger King.
Gluing dried macaroni to paper and mourning the loss of my son.
Going an entire day without masturbating.
Going cuckoo and drowning your kids in the bathtub.
Going inside at some point because of the pandemic.
Going into hiding.
Going outside and then remembering there’s danger and then going back inside.
Going outside.
Going too far with science and bad things happening.
Going viral.
Going with my gut and spending all my money on hand sanitizer.
Good ol' fashioned face-to-face conversation.
Grandma's big, beady eyes.
Grandma's toothless gums slapping together.
Grandma.
Grandpa's ashes.
Grandpa's frail, bony fingers.
Grandpa's shriveled body.
Guaranteed respiratory failure.
Gulping some hand sanitizer.
Having $57 in the bank.
Having a full-on mental breakdown.
Having a strong opinion about Obamacare.
Having a tummy ache.
Having difficulty coping with the death of a loved one.
Having fun, but not for very long.
Having no idea how to use an electric grill.
Having no idea what the fuck is going on.
Having the audacity to breathe.
Having to leave your family behind.
Healthcare.gov.
Helping the elderly.
Hoarding toilet paper like some kind of weak-rectumed dragon.
Holding Kyle's hand, just for a second.
Holding up the line at Walgreens by trying to use an expired coupon.
Hom Tanks.
Home video of Oprah sobbing into a Lean Cuisine®.
Homeless people.
Hope.
Hospice care.
Hospitalizing thousands.
Hot doctors.
How boring the music has become.
How bright the sun is.
How cool it is to not have Coronavirus.
How cool it is to smoke cigarettes.
How horrible it is that people who have never experienced racism find ways to justify it.
How many Asians there are.
How nice Tom Hanks is in person.
How quiet the city is.
How sad it will be when Morgan Freeman catches Coronavirus.
However many old people we can afford to lose.
Huffing and puffing and succumbing to lung failure.
Human extinction.
Human lives.
Human trials.
Hungry, homeless college kids.
Hurting those closest to me.
Increasing economic and political polarization.
Indescribable loneliness.
Insider trading.
Insufficient serotonin.
Intense lung pain.
Ironically buying a trucker hat and then ironically being a trucker for 38 years.
Irritable Bowel Syndrome.
Isolation.
Italians.
Italy.
Jerking it off-screen.
Jobs.
Joe Biden.
Just going for a walk around the park.
Just sobbing.
Just the overall current state of things.
Killing anyone who steps foot on my property.
Killing civilians to own the Libs.
Kissing grandma on the forehead and turning off her life support.
Krispy Kreme Doughnuts.
Large groups.
Laying a lifetime of burdens on young children.
Leading a country to war on false pretenses.
Learning about new and exciting versions of reality within the confines of a re-education camp.
Letting Bernie Sanders rest his world-weary head on your lap.
Letting everyone down.
Letting everyone out of jail.
Letting pawpaw die.
Letting yourself go.
Liberals.
Licking everything and everyone.
Licking feet.
Licking the cake batter off of grandma's fingers.
Licking the toilet as Mistress commands.
Life.
Little Timmy's stubborn refusal to go outside.
Living by the sword and dying by Coronavirus.
Long-distance anal sex.
Losing a loved one to Fox News.
Losing grandma to Coronavirus.
Losing grandpa to Coronavirus.
Losing my son at 31.
Lying dead in the lobby of the doctor’s office.
Lysol.
Maintaining six feet of distance.
Making America great again.
Making Dad cry.
Making an example of this kindly old man here.
Making every possible mistake.
Many bats.
Mass graves.
Mass hysteria on a global scale.
Masturbating and crying and masturbating some more.
Masturbating to a porn star who's dead now.
Masturbating to my dead spouse's final voicemail message.
Mayhem, like me.
Me, an Asian man.
Men in ties talking all the time.
Moral bankruptcy.
More dead old people than I anticipated.
More soap!
Morphing into an ambulance.
My arsenal of maladaptive coping mechanisms.
My deepest condolences.
My frail, aging body.
My illegal stash of stolen N95 masks.
My lifeless corpse.
My little sister's deathbed confession.
My slowly draining sanity.
Naked Zoom night.
New York City.
Nodding solemnly, a vacant look in my eye, and acknowledging that we’re fucked.
Not only having dry heaves but also wet ones.
Not really caring about other people.
Not vaccinating my children.
Notifying next of kin.
Nurses.
One of those awesome lady nurses who understands your pain.
Only a very small number of survivors.
Only calling Mom to make sure she's ok.
Only caring about the short-term.
Only having 15 dollars to spend.
Only showering once a month.
Opening for business because we are a business.
Our capitalist overlords.
Our nation's darkest hour.
Our random and cruel universe.
Our shithole president.
Out-of-pocket expenses.
Paid leave.
Partying.
Peaking.
Perhaps the end of the human race.
Plague masks.
Planning my child's funeral.
Playing Cards Against Humanity until we're in physical pain.
Playing doctor.
Playing truth or dare with the kids.
Politicizing a tragedy.
Pooping in the shower and waffle stomping it down the drain.
Poorly-timed ventilator shortages.
Praying the virus away.
Praying.
Pretending I'm a doctor.
Pretending the Prozac is helping.
Pretending to be informed.
Prioritizing stoking racial tensions over the dissemination of accurate and life-saving information.
Putting poop back where it came from because we all know the cost of toilet paper these days.
Putting the elderly out of their misery.
Putting up with shit from your boss, but now it’s on Zoom.
Putting you out of your misery.
Quarantine.
Rampant fear and doubt.
Realizing it’s time for a divorce.
Realizing most of your social life consists of going out and spending money with people you hate.
Really fucking bad news.
Really putting a damper on things.
Refusing to believe that I am racist.
Rent.
Repeating history.
Repopulating the earth.
Restarting the economy.
Rethinking this whole ‘Capitalism’ thing.
Riding out the rest of existence in the sweet embrace of inanimate nothingness.
Risking one’s life for a pack of Oreos.
Rubbing pot roast on the screen door while my son licks it from the other side to avoid contact.
Rudy Giuliani's unfathomable incompetence.
Running out of toilet paper.
Running up to various homeless people and screaming "go home".
SARS.
Sacrificing Grandma to the Dow Jones.
Scoring cheap political points at the expense of the oppressed.
Screaming at the sky that this isn't real, that this isn't happening, that I need to wake up.
Screaming into the void.
Screaming through the phone at my piece of shit kid while trying to buy 98 things in the Walmart express lane.
Scrubbing my hands until they’re squeaky-clean.
Self-quarantine.
Shooting the first person who coughs.
Sighing in disapproval at the mention of China.
Sitting alone eating a kumquat.
Sitting in the agonizing comfort of your own home.
Sitting on Earth's largest couch.
Sitting on my son's bed thinking, "I could kill him".
Slowly going extinct.
Slowly reaching the limit of my tolerance.
Smiling half-heartedly.
Smothering the globe in soap bubbles.
So much winning.
Social distancing.
Social interaction.
Solidarity.
Solitude.
Some dude with a ponytail who talks about bureaucracy.
Some guy who isn't funny named Anthony Fauci.
Some pretty hardcore themes for a furniture commercial.
Soul-crushing silence.
Spending quality time at home with what remains of my family.
Spluttering and convulsing.
Spreading Communism to all who will listen.
Spreading undetected through the population.
Spreading.
Staring at a wall for a full eight hours.
Starting to get the hang of this whole "lawn care" thing.
Staying home every night, downloading increasingly shameful pornography.
Staying indoors.
Staying the fuck inside!
Steak night!
Sticking with Trump through it all.
Still being alive, I guess.
Still being on the fence about if I should have sex or not.
Stoking the flames of racism.
Stopping the spread of Coronavirus.
Storing nuts in my mouth for the next six months of quarantine.
Stress-eating 15 jars of Nutella®.
Succumbing to Coronavirus.
Sudden death!
Suddenly becoming a socialist.
Suffering.
Survival.
Suspiciously Asian noodles.
Takeout.
Taking my first dick in forever.
Taking this time appreciate one another and reevaluate our lives.
Tearfully masturbating to reruns of "The Daily Show".
Televangelists.
Telling Dad I love him.
Telling Grandma where I plan to bury her.
Telling a dying man to "get back to work".
Telling your partner you love him but you can't have sex with him right now.
Temporary socialism.
Testing negative.
Testing positive.
That hot uncle you never get to see anymore.
That time Dad was diagnosed with Coronavirus and died.
That wedding dress I never wore because the world ended.
The .01% of bacteria Lysol® is powerless to stop.
The CDC.
The Chinese Virus.
The Ching-Chong Ding-Dong Foundation for Sensitivity to Orientals or Whatever.
The Democrat’s greatest hoax: Coronavirus.
The Flu.
The New York stock exchange.
The SARS that took little Eustace this autumn past.
The Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918.
The Wuhan Flu.
The amount of poop one can produce in a day.
The apocalypse.
The bread lines.
The cobwebs in my vagina.
The cold, hard truth that death is near.
The comforting presence of a dog.
The darkened times after the fall of man when the birds chirp no more.
The days of yore.
The economy.
The elderly.
The end of America, at the very least.
The end of civilization.
The federal response to Coronavirus.
The feds.
The freak from that math problem who bought 42 watermelons but turned out to have the right idea.
The horror and confusion of watching Donald Trump do something right.
The hospital.
The human body.
The illusion of choice in a late-stage capitalist society.
The impending collapse of the middle class.
The impending deaths of millions of your fellow humans.
The importance of having fun.
The innate desire to drink alone.
The morbidly obese.
The morose marathon that is life.
The mouth area.
The novel Coronavirus.
The peaceful and nonthreatening rise of China.
The physical imperfection of an old man.
The piked skull of the last person who dared come within six feet of me.
The privilege of existing.
The profoundly handicapped.
The promise of a better tomorrow.
The pure joy of a dog whose parents are always home.
The rapidly shifting political landscape we face today.
The real pillars of society.
The reality that we're all going to die, and there will be no one to remember our stories.
The sadness that I feel.
The scientific process.
The second-best hospital in the area.
The shocking stupidity of the American public.
The struggle.
The survivors of President Trump's first term in office.
The three billion people living in extreme poverty.
The total collapse of the global financial system.
The truth.
The ungodly feats of efficiency that can be achieved when the rich fear consequences.
The untimely demise of my Italian trophy wife, Angelina.
The vacant streets and clear skies of Los Angeles.
The violation of our most basic human rights.
The wonders of science!
The wonders of the Orient.
The worst pain imaginable. Times two!
The wrath of God.
The wrong week to quit drinking.
There being too many people around to reasonably get naked.
These kleptomaniacal rich men who run our government.
Thinking about conserving food and then eating six cans of ravioli.
This almost-safe cruise ship.
This box I live in.
This cup in which I'm going to need a urine sample from you.
This dead body I found.
This disaster that nobody could have predicted except every health official and data-driven simulations.
This old lady next to me who won't stop coughing.
Those who survive.
Thoughts and prayers.
Three consecutive seconds of happiness.
Three months in the hole.
Throwing a tantrum and telling everyone not to touch you anymore.
Toilet paper. Anti-vaxxers.
Tolerating my family.
Tonic and gin.
Toppling large governments.
Total fucking chaos.
Totally ignorant and delusional opinions.
Totally ignoring your father's death wishes.
Totally ineffective political satire.
Totally unlearning all the baseball skills.
Touching all the microphones.
Touching everything.
Travelling.
Trillions of taxpayer dollars down the drain!
Trying to keep it together.
Trying to maintain some semblance of civility.
Trying to pass the time by painting a picture.
Trying to wake up from this nightmare.
Turning 32.
Turning poor people against each other so they don't pay attention to economic inequality.
Tweaking my nipples a little before breaking down and crying.
Tweeting.
Two bros chilling in a hot tub five feet apart because there’s a global pandemic.
Two cancelled tickets to "Hamilton".
Two hours on PornHub.
Two young lovers with nothing better to do.
Ugh.
Underestimating the stupidity of the average American.
Unfathomable stupidity.
Unnecessarily sensual Zoom messages.
Ushering in the apocalypse.
Using a FitBit to masturbate for 2 miles.
Using a Smucker's Uncrustable™ as a maxi pad.
Ventilators.
Vigilante justice.
Voter suppression.
War with China.
Wearing glasses and sounding smart.
Weeding out the old and sick.
Well-deserved Coronavirus.
What Dad has to say about Chinese people.
Whatever is necessary to make life satisfactory.
When I choke and choke and choke.
When government loses control.
Whichever one of you took a shit in the shower.
Whipping lower-class white men into a xenophobic frenzy.
Whiskey to calm my nerves.
Wifely duties.
Winking at old people.
Wiping down every surface.
Witnessing the decline of every industry.
Wondering if it's possible to get some of that salsa to go.
Wondering why white people love baseball so much.
Working from home.
Wrapping myself in a blanket and making a me burrito.
Wuhan, China.
Xenophobia.
Xi Jinping.
Yet another racist tweet.
Young students full of online education and debt.
Your corpse.
Your enduring love and support.
Your mother calling and saying she's had enough.
Zoom.
submitted by BOBULANCE to cahideas [link] [comments]


2019.11.18 20:20 AJR-RULES Black cabin masturbation

INTERACTIVE STORY:
https://preview.redd.it/bz16yylj6iz31.png?width=1897&format=png&auto=webp&s=0a7ea9c5f1319939b4acf55ff1a965efeb0f9c28
(144)
You set out from under the oak tree with all your goods bundled in your arms, you drop the shovel as you near the single wire fence and then everything else tumbles when you stoop to pick it up. “BUCKETS! This is going to take forever!”
“Hannah!” a boy shouts riding up on his bike. The voice is unfamiliar to you but when you see the boy, with his slouch posture and his hair in his face, your heart leaps for joy.
“Steve! What brings you’s here?”
“Hannah, you invited me remember?” he sets his bike down in the grass and pulls 3 roses out that he had hidden behind him, “You said you were doing something special tonight and that if I could accept it we would be together forever.”
“Oh that is sweet, but you’s know I am a Hydrangea sort of girl.”
“It’s illegal in New York do to ‘Hydrangea paniculata’ being smoked as an intoxicant, despite the danger of illness and death due to the cyanide.”
“Why does you’s think I like it, duh?” you take the flowers offered however and give them a sniff, tossing them behind you; “I doubt I said forever.” You pull your hair behind your ear cautious not to expose how you might be blushing. You bite your lip. Your stomach swirls. Is this a prank? Are the other “cool” kids putting him up to this? You hope not you like Silent Steve a lot and being that he is your current CRUSH you would be devastated if this turned out to be a joke. Warlock or no, you do want to be loved right?
“Well, Hannah…. I mean forever.” He takes both of your shoulders in his hands, “What can I help with?”
“Here!” you hand him the shovel, the box, some cloths, the candle and at last, you balance the gold chalice you stole from a church in Morristown. “Come this way.”
“Okay.” He follows you, ducking under the single wire fence when you hold it up for him,
“I have had nightmares of entering this scary graveyard.”
“So how did you find my house?”
“Oh well everyone knows where you live Hannah.” It was his turn to blush.
“That is so cool ain’t it? A warlock seeks fortune, fame, and power, now all I need is the fortune!”
“You have the other two?”
“Sue, EVERYONE knows me, and the power you will see tonight when I RAISE THE DEAD!”
“You are gonna do what?”
“RAISE THE DEAD!”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Oh it will be okay, the witch I am going to raise from the dead will teach me all sorts of new spells, ancient stuff, long forgotten.”
“Why would she share her power?”
“He… he will share it for the same reason you’s came out here.”
“He loves you too?”
“No silly, for the pussy!”
“Hannah?”
“That’s me.” You are almost skipping as he stumbles along behind you carrying all of your ceremonial supplies.
“Eh, did you steal this gold chalice from Christ Church Morristown?”
“What chalice?” you play coy; not wanting to lie to him if this is going to be as serious a relationship as he said he wanted it to be.
“This one here this gold chalice, the only gold chalice you have, did you steal it from the church in Morristown that got broken into?”
“Oh my, a church was broken into? How rude!”
“Well yes some candles and a communion cup and other items were stolen.”
“That is weird!” You turn to him, “Listen Steve I don’t want to lie to you’s because that is not how I want this relationship to be, but I need you to be quiet now so I can search for the grave that I need, you go that way I will go this way.”
“What are we looking for?”
“A really old grave with a guy who died in the 1700’s or early 1800’s named Luke.
It isn’t long before he shouts, “Hannah I found a Luke from 1702!”
“That’s it!” you rush to his side and hug him, this is great you’s did wonderful!”
He blushes.
“What happens now?”
“Now… you’s dig!” you raise an eyebrow and point at him with your long black fingernail, “You’s got to dig him up while I set up all these things and get ready!”
Do you offer to give him a blowjob so that you can get his semen in the cup? (Go to 171)
Do you go and get cum from somewhere else while he is digging? (Go to 196)
(145)
You set out from under the oak tree with all your goods bundled in your arms, you drop the shovel as you near the single wire fence and then everything else tumbles when you stoop to pick it up. “BUCKETS! This is going to take forever!”
There is a rumbling noise and a large truck pulls up next to you, just off the road. The coach from school jumps out, “Hey Hannah, I found your address from the shower wall in the gym. Good GAWD! You live in that big creepy house over?”
“It’s not creepy its home!” you huff picking up your things again, “Why did you’s come here anyway coach?”
He unzips his windbreaker, still wearing his coach’s whistle and bright school colored shorts underneath. “Well I actually came to try and hook up with your mom but if I recall she is not interested in white guys, sooo maybe I can help with what you are doing?”
You consider it, “Sure!” and hand him the shovel, the box with your ritual clothes prepared, your magical book, the chalice and the candles: “Okay now you’s got to stay close.”
“What are we doing?”
“I am going to RAISE THE DEAD, and you’s gonna help me!”
“Hey wait a tic; I am not doing anything satanic!”
You turn to him and give him a smile, “I can totally make it worth you’s time.”
“You mean sex?”
You shrug, “Follow me.”
He looks at the objects you handed him, “Hey did you steal this cup from that church in Morristown, Christ Church Morristown?”
“I don’t know what you’s talking about.” You stoop under the wire fence and hold it for him, allowing him to enter the graveyard first. “A little bit of salt over the shoulder!” you tell yourself.
It takes about 40 minutes of searching to find the specific grave that you are looking for, “John!” you point at him with your long nails in a dramatic fashion. The wind blows your black hair about you.
“Well this is one of the old graves. Do you know it is older than the Briar Hill Cemetery?”
“That is ridiculous, it cannot be, once a grave is in place it is a cemetery which makes the entire cemetery older than Brier Hill.”
“Oh, that sounds right.” The coach sets the equipment down. “Now what?”
“Now we are gonna RAISE THE DEAD! But first, you’s start digging double quick!”
“Me?”
“Oh I’m sorry did you’s promise to make this worth my time or did I promise you’s that? Remember, you’s came to me… so dig!” you point down at the grave.
“Alright, alright!” he raises his hands in surrender, removes his jacket and starts to dig. “This is going to creep me out I know it!”
“Maybe, just let me know if you need me to hold your hand.”
Spurred on by your insult to his manhood, he digs fast and furious and while he is digging you open your magical book and select the spell that you had Google’d the month before, cleverly using the dogpile search engine to double check what the Politically Correct Google. You had printed out the pages and glued them into the emptied spine of a book on agriculture called: Bloodstock Breeding by Sir Charles Leicester. You had signed it out from the Morristown Library and never returned it which is why your library card for St. Lawrence county was revoked, but you did not care, especially now that you were turning through the very pages that you had glued to the tomb to make your magic book of witchcraft. It is complete with magical doodles and good reads such as the 6th and 7th books of Moses for good measure and the infamous witches’ hammer which you had to photo copy. Aleister Crawley makes a few appearances in your sacred log as well, which you turn to presently, along with the photocopied parts from the Book of Light and most importantly, your own Dungeon Masters and Players guide book which reads:
“You return a dead creature you touch to life, provided that it has been dead no longer than 10 days. If the creature's soul is both willing and at liberty to rejoin the body, the creature returns to life with 1 hit point. This spell also neutralizes any poisons and cures non-magical diseases that affected the creature at the time it died. This spell doesn't, however, remove magical diseases, curses, or similar effects; if these aren't first removed prior to casting the spell, they take effect when the creature returns to life. The spell can't return an undead creature to life. This spell closes all mortal wounds, but it doesn't restore missing body parts. If the creature is lacking body parts or organs integral for its survival--its head, for instance--the spell automatically fails. Coming back from the dead is an ordeal. The target takes a −4 penalty to all attack rolls, saving throws, and ability checks. Every time the target finishes a long rest, the penalty is reduced by 1 until it disappears.”
The coach jumps out of the hole he dug, “Christ what does all that mean? This guy has been dead more than 10 days! He’s older than this whole town!”
You look up from your book, “BUCKETS! What I just read was from a game coach.” You point at what you just read. Then you point at the coffin he uncovered, “That is real, and the spell I am going to cast now, as a WARLOCK is quite terribly real!”
“Oh, well don’t you witches have to do sex stuff to get this spell thing on?”
You tap your chin in consideration, “I am not a witch moron, I am a warlock.”
“I thought warlocks were just male witches.”
“YEET!” you hold your hand up to him, palm facing his face, “You’s are correct however, I will need you’s to cum for me.”
“Oh man! This is what I was digging for!” he tugs his sport shorts down.
“Not yet goof, get that friggin coffin up here so I can do the magic!”
“Brother this is gonna be gross!”
“I am sure it will. Now snap to it!” you clap your hands to encourage him.
The coach is strong enough to pry the coffin up and then leverage it against the hole’s wall as he straddles the sides and then hefts it up inch by inch. However, when he gets it up to the top you have to assist in pulling it to the side so that it doesn’t fall back in to the grave. “Pull the top off and dump the bones on the ground!” You step back and watch him. Then, standing over the body, glare down in triumph, “Ah John!” you state with a megalomaniacal voice. The twisted bones in rotting clothes at your feet: “You were a great witch and you will be so again!”
“Now do I get the sex thing?”
“You’s hold on to your horses! I am still setting up the ceremonial candles and stuff, can’t you see?” you set up the candles and light them, orange the cloths with the symbols on them around the body, mindful of the 5 chakras and then in the ground around you and the grave you draw a pentagram and a circle with sacred symbols that you had learned from specific and rare comic books.
Finished you pull your dress up over your head and set it on the tombstone marker.
“Oh this is it!” the coach is already tugging on his cock under his brightly colored shorts.
“Easy tiger I just don’t want to invoke another ‘Paris incident’ we will have the sex shortly but I have to say stuff and I can’t say it if you’s filled my mouth with cum, right?”
You stand naked holding a single candle with the book opened to the selected pages resting on your nylon dress atop the tombstone.
Thunder rolls in the distance and it starts to sprinkle.
“Good thing it’s getting dark, if someone sees us out here we could be arrested.” He coach keeps a worried and anxious eye on your house in the distance and Sandy Street road beyond the trees.
“Zip it!” you chastise him, “I have to focus!”
“I was just saying… er… um… that it is good that it is getting dark so no one will see us do the sex thing!”
“YEET!” you show him your palm, and then continue with your sacred and ritual Celtic words which you memorized from the movie EXCALIBUR: “Anál-nathrach-ortha-oratio-bás-ocus-do-cél-dénumh!” you repeat this again and again as the rain drizzles around you. With your eyes closed you continue to chant this, faster than slower, then faster again and slower again.
Bored, he starts to hum the school song waiting for you to tell him that you are ready.
“Hmm-mmmm-ho hum mmm and we take the fight to the devil.”
Slightly annoyed by his distracting humming and mumbling you tell him, “Alright, now you’s jerk off into that chalice for me!”
“No way!”
“Coach I don’t have time for this!”
“Masturbation is a sin!”
You stop and give him a sidelong glance, “So would fucking a warlock in a cemetery during a Satanic ritual.”
“I am sure one is less than the other.”
“You’s are not wrong in that.”
“Well, at least just give me a blow job and then spit in it!”
“There is no time coach!” lightning flashes, “Alright come here!”
He jumps over the body to you with his shorts already down and his pecker hanging out. You waste no time and grab hold of his member, spitting on your hands then jerking him and sucking him as quick as you can. With ferocity you gobble down on him, squeeze his balls and reaching around to his backside, poke a long finger up his butt.
He is taken by surprise and gasps, “OH YES!” as he cums in hard long pulses into your mouth. When you are sure he is dune you push him away. He stumbles off into the dark grass, and you spit out the semen in the chalice.
You stand up again, naked in the rain and the flashes of lightning, holding the chalice over your head and resume reciting the sacred Celtic words. Standing over the corps you pour the goblet over your body, then piss on the corpse, continuing to chant the incarnation again and again until you hear a horrified scream from the coach.
“It moved!”
Lightning flashes again and the rain turns into a torrent.
“It moved!” he gasped, “I swear! I am out of here!” He makes a mad dash through the graveyard. Lightning flashes and thunder booms. He starts his truck and is gone.
However there is no other sign of animation.
“Maybe it wasn’t’ enough life potion?” you ask yourself in the morning when you woke up by the corps, in the fetal position, covered in mud.
You had skipped half the school day yesterday and never came home, she is going to want to kill you but worst of all, you were not able to RAISE THE DEAD LAST NIGHT!
The end
(146)
“We got to hurry so you’s all gots to digging double quick!”
“Me?” the principal asks not moving towards the shovel, “I am doing the candles.”
“Surely not us.” The coach gestures to himself and the janitor.
“Oh I’m sorry did I just come to your house and mess with you’s while you’s was trying to do stuff on your own?” you shake your head smiling with your pronounced buck teeth on full display, “Nope that was you’s guys- so get twerk! Get it? To work!”
“If this is what it takes to win your love my lady, then I will have one uncovered corpse quicker than well double quick!” Steve snatches the shovel and starts to dig down through the hardened soil, the roots and the rocks.
“Well there is another thing too.” You add quieter just for Steve to hear. “For this ceremony to work I will need some semen.”
“From me?”
“Do I have a dick?” you whisper.
“Well how, um…” he blushed and tried to shovel harder and faster to not have to look up at you.
“Well you could masturbate into that Chalice for me but I suppose you wouldn’t like that. So I could give you a blow job and then spit it out into the cup.”
“Hannah this sounds absolutely wicked.” His face burned red as he shoveled. The Janitor took his shovel and began to work the soil too and the two of you stepped away from him as Steve continued to dig.
“It is absolutely wicked, we are all in an old grave yard, I am a warlock, and we are conducting a satanic ritual to RAISE THE DEAD. I don’t think it can get much more wicked!” you laugh and snort with the laughter which makes him laugh too.
“I suppose you are right, but I am not comfortable with that I mean we haven’t even gone on a date yet.
“Well this could be our first date. Only it would be you me and all of them and a whole bunch of dick sucking and stuff.” You bat your eyelids and lean over the shovel he is holding, “Surely you’ve let people give you head on the first date before.”
“No… never.”
“Not the second date?”
“Or the third I have never had sex Hannah.”
“Not even anal?”
“Hannah!”
“Just a question.” You shrug and then watch him return to work, digging the grave.
“Okay I will be right back!” you scoop the chalice up.
“Where are you going?” Mrs. Grabcrotch asked, her eyes following the cup. “I gots secret stuff to do, you’s get to work setting up the pentagram and candles I will be back!” then you into the trees to the greater graveyard and then sprint across Sand Street road to the razor wire fence that separates Aunt Peppermint’s devil bull from the rest of the world.
You find a 2 by 6 board that you have used before, laying in the grass and use that to climb up the side of the fence, dropping down on the cold grass of the other side.
“Here crazy bull, crazy bull, crazy bull! Come here BUSHWHACK! Come to me and cum!”
You look around but see no sign of the bull, at first, then all of a sudden the bull appeared, just around the other side of the barn where the hermit lives. Seeing you, the bull lumbers towards you but you now know, having learned the hard way, not to run from the bull and standing your ground, with your arms crossed you wait for the bull to reach you.
“I don’t have time to go through all this Busch!” the locals call him Busch short for his official rodeo name Bushwhack, “So you’s are just gonna have to let me do what I got to do, okay?” you pet his neck then his side and get down on your knees next to his dangling penis.
The bull stomps the ground in anticipation then pisses.
“Ooh! Just for good measure!” you capture some of the piss in your gold cup. It quickly fills to the rim and splashes you. Spraying your breasts and face with his hot urine. You balance the overfilled chalice on the ground and then take his cock with both your hands, jerking it, stroking it and licking it for lubrication. “Oyez you’s got to give me a bucket of semen!”
The bull stomps the ground and snorts. “YEET!” and you continue to jerk and lick the bull’s dick deciding what way would be best to take him. Do you want to suck him? Your mouth could be sore and it would be hard to say the complicated words. If you take him in the ass that could be painful. If you take him with your vajay-jay you might get bull puppies or something… what do you do?
Take the bull in your ass? (Go to 208)
Take the bull with your pussy? (Go to 201)
Give the bull a blow job? (Go to 206)
(147)
You decide to walk on the “safe” side of the semi truck which would be the right side, further on the shoulder of the road where it was grass, and away from the traffic. Just as you walk passed the trailer hitch, towards the cab, the passenger door swings open above you and a creepy looking truck driver in a baseball cap and dark reflective shades pokes his head out, “Need a ride little lady?”
“That don’t even make sense, I am only going to Sand Street Road.”
“Well that is a mile up the road here.” The driver says.
“By the time you’s get up to speed you’s will have to stop.” You shake your head, “I ain’t worth the hassle.”
“Maybe, but a blowjob would be.”
You consider your options, you missed out on the opportunity earlier to do a BUKAKKE with those 10 guys at the cabin, and that was one of your bucket list things so what would another blowjob hurt? “Fine!” you pull the handle on the door and climb in.
The driver grins behind his shades there is something menacing.
You will not be raising the dead tonight.
The end
(148)
You set out from under the oak tree with all your goods bundled in your arms, you drop the shovel as you near the single wire fence and then everything else tumbles when you stoop to pick it up. “BUCKETS! This is going to take forever!”
There is a rumbling noise and a large truck pulls up next to you, just off the road. The coach from school jumps out, “Hey Hannah, I found your address from the shower wall in the gym. Good GAWD! You live in that big creepy house over?”
“It’s not creepy its home!” you huff picking up your things again, “Why did you’s come here anyway coach?”
He unzips his windbreaker, still wearing his coach’s whistle and bright school colored shorts underneath. “Well I actually came to try and hook up with your mom but if I recall she is not interested in white guys, sooo maybe I can help with what you are doing?”
You consider it, “Sure!” and hand him the shovel.
There is a BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! And you turn to see a van pulling up the other way, towards Route 37. “Who the devil is dis?”
“Hey Hannah!” the man who owes you 7 dollars from the morning pokes his head out of the driver window and waves at you, “What are you guys doing?”
“What are we doing?” the coach asked still holding the shovel and staring down at you.
2 more vehicles pull up to the side of the road, the Principal and Mrs. Grabcrotch get out of the car. She is wearing her office clothes over the latex outfit, with her hair pulled into a tight bun and the principal is in the same suit he wore earlier.
The second vehicle is the Janitor’s old Trail Blazer and he brings his own shovel from the back when he sees the coach with one, “What are we doing COOKEY Eyed girl?”
The principal wipes off his glasses and seems to be nervous about Mrs. Grabcrotch being with him, and the other men there as well. His secretary crosses her arms and casts you a disapproving glance, “Yes Miss Tolgolalopus, what are you doing?”
“Okay, I will tell you’s, but first.” You point your hand at the van guy from this morning, “Do you’s got my 7 dollars?”
He smiles sheepishly, I was actually hoping to work it off in trade.”
Another voice calls out to you, “Hannah!” at first he is unfamiliar but then you see the boy, with his slouch posture and his hair in his face, your heart leaps for joy.
“Steve! What brings you’s here?”
“Hannah, you invited me remember?” he sets his bike down in the grass and pulls 3 roses out that he had hidden behind him, “You said you were doing something special tonight and that if I could accept it we would be together forever.”
“Oh that is sweet, but you’s know I am a Hydrangea sort of girl.”
“Miss Tolgolalopus, you know those flowers are illegal in New York do to ‘Hydrangea paniculata’ being smoked as an intoxicant, despite the danger of illness and death due to the cyanide!” Mrs. Grabcrotch.
“Why does you’s think I like it, duh?” you give her a wink and then take the flowers from Steve and give them a sniff. Tossing them behind you; “I doubt I said forever.” You pull your hair behind your ear cautious not to expose how you might be blushing. You bite your lip. Your stomach swirls. Is this a prank? Are the other “cool” kids putting him up to this? You hope not you like Silent Steve a lot and being that he is your current CRUSH you would be devastated if this turned out to be a joke. Warlock or no, you do want to be loved right?
“Well, Hannah…. I mean forever.” He takes both of your shoulders in his hands, “What can I help with?”
“You will have to wait in line son.” Says the coach.
“And that is a very, very, long line! The principal adds, still nervously cleaning his glasses.
“Yeah we all are here to get a piece of her!” says the Janitor.
“And to help.” Adds the van guy.
“Well then, you’s carry the candles.” You hand the candles to the van guy, “You’s carry my magic book!” You hand that to the principal who takes it with hesitation. You almost hand Mrs. Grabcrotch your Chalice, but you think better of it for some reason and hand that to Steve. To Mrs. Grabcrotch you hand the box of ritual clothes that you had prepared for this ceremony.
“Okay now you’s guys got to stay close.”
“Okay.” They nod among themselves and follow you in a large group. You stop by the fence and pull the wire up and they each duck under as you hold it up for them.
“I have had nightmares of entering this scary graveyard.” Steve confesses, walking right next to you.
“So… you come to my house in your dreams?” you laugh.
“Oh well everyone knows where you live COOKEY Eyed Girl!” The Janitor says, “Your address is on almost every bathroom wall, along with explicit details of your very explicit skills.” It was Steve’s turn to blush.
“That is so cool ain’t it? A warlock seeks fortune, fame, and power, now all I need is the fortune!” you smile at Steve, holding his hand as you walk through the grave yard.
“You have the other two?” Steve asked.
“Sure, EVERYONE knows me, and the power you will see tonight when I RAISE THE DEAD!”
“You are gonna do what?” the principal, Steve, the coach and the van guy all shout at once.
“RAISE THE DEAD!” you laugh, “I am soooo powerful!”
“Why would you want to do that?” Steve gasped.
“Oh it will be okay, the witch I am going to raise from the dead will teach me all sorts of new spells, ancient stuff, long forgotten.”
“Why would she share her power with the likes of you?” Mrs. Grabcrotch asked.
“He… he will share it for the same reason you’s all came out here.”
“What is that?” the principal asked.
“Pussy!”
“Hannah?” Steve squeezed your hand, “I came here because I love you.”
“Steve.” You give him a side long glance, “If I had a dick would you have come?”
“Not with the roses.” He admitted,
“See… it’s the PUSSY!”
“Eh, did you steal this gold chalice from Christ Church Morristown?”
“What chalice?” you play coy, not wanting to lie to him if this is going to be as serious a relationship as he said he wanted it to be.
“This one here this gold chalice, the only gold chalice you have, did you steal it from the church in Morristown that got broken into?”
“Oh my, a church was broken into? How rude!”
“Well yes some candles and a communion cup and other items were stolen too.” Mrs. Grabcrotch stares at you quizzically.
“That is weird!” You turn back to Steve, “Listen Steve I don’t want to lie to you’s because that is not how I want this relationship to be, but I need you to be quiet now so I can search for the grave that I need, you’s go that way I will go this way, then you’s guys go over there!”
“What are we looking for?”
“A really old grave with a guy who died in the 1700’s or early 1800’s named Luke.
It isn’t long before the coach shouts, “Hannah I found a Luke it looks like 1702!”
“That’s it!” you rush to his side and hug him, calling everyone else together. “This is great! You’s guys did wonderful!”
“Well, what happens now?” asked the van guy,
“Glad you asked guy who owes me 7 bucks, Now you dig!” you raise an eyebrow and point at him and the janitor with a singular long black fingernail, “You’s got to dig him up while we set up all these things up and get ready!”
“I can hold on to the chalice while you set everything up.” Mrs. Grabcrotch offers.
“Nice try, you’s will get to hold on to it later but for now Steve will keep it while you and I trace out a circle and set these clothes in place.
“What is the Chalice for?” asks Steve.
“I need it for the serum” you say,
Do you tell them that it will be filled with semen and spit and that they are going to be the ones to fill it for you? (Go to 172)
Or
Do you tell them none of your secrets and go and get cum from somewhere else while he is digging? (Go to 159)

(149)
“Fuck it, no magic is worth this shit!” you pick up your dress and haul ass to the fence in a full on sprint. You know there is a very slight and tiny chance that you will be able to make it there before the bull runs you down and that there is even less of a chance that you will be able to clear that fence, yet against all these odds you put your hope in that slight sliver of a shadow of a breath of a possibility and run, run, run!
Your heat is banging like a drum, your ears are ringing from the blood rushing through your body, your chest burns like acid on fire and your feet are numb.
All the while the bulls’ hooves grow louder, his snort draws nearer, you can feel the heat of his breath and you see in your wacky peripheral vision the shadow of his single horn as the bull draws up behind you.
Just then you make the all out dynamic leap up into the air. If the fence gets you, so be it!
The air flings your hair around and for a brief moment as you float weightless in that fraction of a moment, time seems to stand still. You hear your heart beat and nothing more. Then the fence clears below you and the road comes up suddenly and you crash with a tumble and a roll.
You pick yourself up, plucking the gravel from the shoulder of the road from your back and thigh where you landed before tugging your dress back down in place.
A car stops next to you, “Thank you I am all right!” you look back at the bull with its one floppy ear and its crazy eyes and you stick your tongue out “PTHPRHPRHPRH! Loser!”
“Come on Hannah!” someone grabs your wrist and you turn to see a somewhat familiar face. It is a black man but you can’t place the name.
“Yo momma’s gonna whoop your ass when you get home.”
Your joy turns to grief, “Oh man, you’s don’t have to take me home do you’s?”
“Sorry Hannah, I would let you give me a blowjob if I could get away with telling her that I didn’t see you, but she already did so, you are out of luck.”
“Drats and double BUCKETS!” you stomp back to the car.
It looks like you will not be RAISING THE DEAD TONIGHT!
The end
submitted by AJR-RULES to u/AJR-RULES [link] [comments]


2019.10.08 14:35 M_Tootles Masturbation black cabin

This post is likely much easier to read on-screen on my blog, A Song of Ice and Tootles, HERE. I may also make edits/updates there that I won't make to the reddit version.
For logistical reasons, I am dividing this writing into 3 posts. This is Part 2. It simply picks up right where [Part 1] ended. It won't make much sense if you haven't read Part 1.
Tyrion As Pan… Who Had 108 Fathers While I was analyzing Tyrion's story with an eye towards the idea that he is both a figurative Minotaur and a genetic chimera, a few passages kept jumping out at me as possible allusions to, of all things, the Greek god Pan. Further exploration left me convinced: ASOIAF codes Tyrion as a Pan-figure. But to what end? I suspect it's because making Tyrion a figurative Pan also hints that he is a genetic chimera with multiple sires: probably Aerys, yes, but perhaps also several dark-haired (young) men used by Aerys and/or Rhaella to guarantee Tywin would be marked as a cuckold. How so?
In short, certain later "folk myths" about the parentage of the Greek god Pan say that Pan's mother was Penelope, wife of Ulysses. They hold that Penelope was seduced by men who were not her absentee husband. In one version, Ulysses exiled Pan's mother for her infidelity. In another, he killed her. (Remember: I have Tywin cutting out Joanna's tongue and banishing her to the Silent Sisters.)
In a particularly salacious (hence well-known) folk version of Pan's origin story which I have come to suspect GRRM had in mind when he decided to paint Tyrion as Pan-ish, Penelope cuckolded the often-absent Ulysses by boning 108 men, and all 108 men co-sired Pan. That makes the idea that two men impregnated Joanna with the chimaeric Tyrion seem downright quaint, and suggests Tyrion surely has at least three sires if he is indeed "coded" as Pan-ish. Which we'll see he most certainly is.
One telling of this tale says that when Ulysses saw the "monstrous infant" Pan, he left Penelope and resumed his wanderings, which on the one hand sounds like self-imposed exile, inverting the idea that Tywin exiled Joanna, but on the other amounts to going back to his routine, which is exactly what Tywin did by returning to King's Landing as Hand following Tyrion's birth/Joanna's "death".
I would be remiss not to mention that some of the same sources that have Penelope cuckolding Ulysses and giving birth to Pan also say Ulysses was killed by his own son (a la Tyrion killing Tywin) with a poisoned spear, a la Oberyn, fighting on behalf of Tyrion, and Gregor, fighting on behalf of Tywin. Intimately involved in these events? One "Cerce" (a la Cersei), who receives Ulysses's body after he is killed by his son. But "surely" this is all coincidence. (Regarding all this, see the text and notes on and around p. 305 of the 1921 Loeb Classic edition of Apollodorus: The Library, Vo. 2, [HERE].)
Of course, it only matters that there's a myth about Pan having multiple cuckolder sires and a mother who is the victim of her often-absent cuckolded husband's vengeance if Tyrion is clearly likened to Pan. I'll now try to show that he is.
Pan, Pan, Greek God Pan, One Half Goat and the Other Half Man Before we can talk about how Tyrion is likened to and associated with Pan and Pan-esque things, a quick primer on Pan is in order. This summary draws on en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pan_(god), www.greekmythology.com/Other_Gods/Pan/pan.html, www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Pan_(mythology), brickthology.com/2018/01/30/pan/, www.ancient.eu, and, especially, www.theoi.com/Georgikos/Pan.html and other pages at theoi.com, which is in general the best source of ancient text excerpts in translation regarding any aspect of Greek myth.
Pan was the Greek god of shepherds, flocks, and wild, rustic places: especially wild mountain forests and meadows like those of his home of Arcadia. Unlike most Greek gods, his appearance wasn't fully human. His had two legs, the butt, and the horns of a goat. He was otherwise mostly a man, albeit an ugly one, often depicted with a snub nose. (Yes, this does sound a lot like the way later Christian-era artwork depicted devils and demons. This stems from the fact that early Christians viewed rival pagan gods as demons. Especially the "sexy" ones…) [Very late edit: As I finally go to post this a couple years after writing the bulk of it, GenghisKazoo has been killing it with a series of posts connecting ASOIAF with the Catharism and the Gnostic gospels, and has just posited that Tyrion is a kind of demon figure in that Christian tradition. Tyrion as Pan complements that idea.]
Pan was also a god of sex and fertility. He was often depicted with an erect penis. A famous statue depicts him [fucking a goat]. An ancient comic told a tale of Pan teaching shepherds to masturbate.
Many of Pan's appearances in myth involved him lusting after various Nymphs: female spirits of the natural world appearing as beautiful young women. Pan famously chased one nymph, Syrinx, until she turned herself into "tall marsh reeds" to escape him. Pan became entranced by the sound of the wind in the reeds, cut them down, and assembled his famous Syrinx, popularly known as the Pan-pipes or Pan-flute.
Pan was accordingly heavily associated with music and dance. He was constantly playing his Pan-pipes/flute, often while others danced, and he was constantly dancing, either to his own music or to the sound of the Pan-flute/pipes played by others, usually Satyrs.
In Greek mythology, Satyrs were semi-divine nature spirits, the male opposite numbers of the Nymphs. Satyrs were heavily associated with Pan, to the point of quasi-conflation. Thus where Satyrs were originally depicted as bestial men with horse tails, pug noses (like Pan), and constant, exaggerated erections, during the Roman period they started to look like the goat-legged, goat-horned Pan after they became conflated with the Pans/Panes—plural forms of Pan—and identified with fauns, the Romans' own nature spirits, which were themselves related to Faunus, the Roman version of Pan.
Pan was constantly associated with Satyrs, which were if anything more lust-driven than Pan. (Pan at least claimed to "love" the Nymphs he generally unsuccessfully chased.) The Satyrs were ribald, mischievous and constantly drunk. Like Pan, they loved music, dancing, and wine. There existed an entire genre of Greek plays called "Satyr plays" which featured a chorus of "wanton, saucy, and insolent" Satyrs parodying tragedy with their bawdy, drunk, obscene (as in "curses") humor.
Both Pan and the Satyrs were associated with Dionysus/Bacchus, the Greek/Roman god of wine, pleasure and theater. Pan is also regularly depicted with grapes and wine.
Wikipedia states that the Greeks considered Pan to be the god of theater criticism. I can't find an original source to corroborate this, but there is some sense to this, as the Satyrs in Satyr plays were essentially making mock of the tragic form and "to pan" something is to give it a bad review.
Pan often comes across as a humorous and mischievous god. One of his cult titles was Sinoies, meaning Mischief. Pan was said to be a "loud-voiced" god, even when he was born. He was also famously bearded, and, even more famously, he was born with his beard, such that his appearance frightened off his nurse.
This makes sense, as Pan was associated with fear: The word "panic" derives from Pan's name: It was believed that Pan could induce a primitive, senseless fear in people, especially those alone in wild places. This ability to inspire fear in men also manifested itself when Pan occasionally participated in wars which saw the enemy panic and flee.
As embodied by his half-goat, half-man body, Pan's nature was split between the animal and the divine. He was lecherous, yes, but he was also seen as a wise, prophetic god. He was the principle oracular deity in Arcadia, bestowing divination in caves and grottoes, which were also where he was worshiped. While Apollo was the Olympian king of prophecy, one ancient source states that Apollo actually received his gift of divination from Pan.
Tyrion and Pan So how does all this relate to Tyrion? Tyrion obviously isn't half a goat. Nor does he play music or dance. Nonetheless, it's clear to me that in telling Tyrion's story GRRM regularly evokes aspects of the mythology surrounding Pan, including even the details of certain famous ancient texts describing Pan.
The next chunk of this writing will consider how Tyrion's story reflects various aspects of Pan's. I'll begin with two passages that jump off the page with obvious Pan-referentiality. They prompted me to do a deeper dig, and hopefully they'll intrigue you enough to keep you reading.
Tyrion the Piper Pan's signature instrument, the Syrinx, is often called the Pan-pipes, or simply his "pipes". Hints that Tyrion is a figurative Pan-the-Piper don't get much more blatant than this rant from a King's Landing street preacher:

"We have become swollen, bloated, foul. Brother couples with sister in the bed of kings, and the fruit of their incest capers in his palace to the piping of a twisted little monkey demon." (COK Ty V)
Tyrion is thus set up a figurative pipe-playing, dance-inducing (per "capering") demon—in other words, as a figure very much like the goat-horned, goat-legged, dancing and dance-inducing player of the Pan-pipes, Pan (given that demons are often depicted as goat-legged, goat-horned). (The use of the term "capers" is interesting, as Pan and the Satyrs are often described as "capering". I'll discuss the use of "twisted" in separate section; it's very Pan-ish.)
The street preacher isn't given a name, but isn't it curious that GRRM later introduces a historical street preacher auspiciously named "The Shepherd"—Pan is the god of shepherds and is called a shepherd, remember—who ranted in a similarly apocalyptic tone during the Dance of Dragons:
When a crazed one-handed prophet called the Shepherd began to rant against dragons, not just the ones who were coming to attack them, but all dragons everywhere, the crowd, half-crazed themselves, listened. … "There the demons dwell, up there. This is their city. If you would make it yours, first must you destroy them! If you would cleanse yourself of sin, first must you bathe in dragon’s blood! For only blood can quench the fires of hell!" (tP&tQ)
GRRM is putting Pan-motifs in front of us and begging us to connect the dots.
GRRM again posits Tyrion as a "piper" in ADWD:
"Do you understand what he is saying?" [Tyrion] asked Haldon in the Common Tongue.
"I would if I did not have a dwarf piping in my ear."
"I do not pipe." (DWD Ty VI)
Oh yes you do, "Pan".
A Goat-Legged Boy Dancing To A Flute The other passage that prompted me to explore whether this "Tyrion is Pan" idea had legs is in ADWD Tyrion X. We see a blatantly Pan-esque "goat-legged boy" from Yezzan's grotesquerie dance to the sound of a flute, and then the text subtly underlines that he and Tyrion are equals, that they are in the same position, that Tyrion is like him, inasmuch as they are both performers in the same show:
A juggler began the evening's frolics. Then came a trio of energetic tumblers. After them the goat-legged boy came out and did a grotesque jig whilst one of Yurkhaz's slaves played on a bone flute. Tyrion had half a mind to ask him if he knew "The Rains of Castamere." As they waited their own turn to perform, he watched Yezzan and his guests. (DWD Ty X)
Tyrion is in a sense equated with this obvious Pan-figure. (Later depictions of Pan like [this one] or [this one] or [this one] often depicted him as boy-ish, as against his usual ugly, pug-nosed, bearded, and monstrous appearances.)
More specifically, the boy's "grotesque jig" recalls ancient texts in which Pan specifically "dances badly and goes beyond bounds in his leaping", "dances an Evian fling", and does a "wild dance". (theoi.com: Pan) In a 1912 journal article titled Pan the Rustic, philosphetheologian [Paul Carus] wrote that the motions of Pan's dancing "are marked by comic awkwardness. He is the patron of… grotesque capering." (https://opensiuc.lib.siu.edu/ocj/vol1912/iss9/2)
Sounds like a "grotesque jig" to me. (Also: note the use of "capering".)
Tyrion does not dance, but as a "grotesque", any "jig" he did would surely be "grotesque", too.
At the same time, the fact that the pan-boy dances to a "bone flute" smacks of winking prurience, recalling "skin flute" and boners, as befits Pan's horny, fertility-oriented nature. It also recalls various ancient descriptions of Pan "delighting" in or doing a "wild dance" to the music of a pan-flute played by another. (ibid.)
Having been titillated by Tyrion-the-Piper and his structural equation with the goat-legged boy dancing to a bone flute, I read up on Pan. It turns out these things were just the beginning.
Pan the Dwarf Perusing images of Pan created by the Romans and Greeks, it becomes clear that he was frequently depicted as significantly shorter than others in the same piece of art, and that his proportions are often almost dwarfish: short, squat limbs and a large head-to-body ratio. He's easily shorter than Aphrodite in the famous sculpture of the two them. He's downright diminutive compared to the Satyrs in ancient sculptures which show Pan removing a thorn from a Satyr's foot.
See for example HERE.
Or HERE.
Or HERE.
Or HERE.
Or HERE.
Or HERE.
Or HERE.
Or HERE.
Or HERE.
Or HERE.
Or HERE.
Or HERE.
Pan is never called a dwarf, but if you didn't know that and spent a few minutes browsing certain ancient images of him, you'd have good reason to believe someone who told you that he was.
Pan was sometimes depicted as somewhat boy-ish or even as a child, especially in the Roman era. I wonder if this transition had something to do with the "original" Pan's decidedly non-Olympian size. And I wonder if GRRM isn't playing with the two versions of Pan (one oddly dwarfish, one-childish) vis-a-vis Tyrion when he talks in two places about the confusion of dwarfs and children:
"Dwarfs are not so common a sight as children, so a child is what they will see." - Varys to Tyrion (COK Ty III)
At least this one was a dwarf. The last had simply been an ugly child. (FFC C IV)
Y-L-G-U, Backwards You Are Ugly Too The same ancient depictions of Pan show that he was generally rendered as anything but "beautiful" by Greek standards. He was clearly a grotesque figure. Homer's Hymn to Pan speaks of his "uncouth face" sending his nurse fleeing, and the fact that the Nymphs were forever fleeing Pan's amorous advances shows that it was understood that Pan was ugly.
Tyrion having a verbatim "ugly face", "a brute's squashed-in face beneath a swollen shelf of brow" is thus consistent with the idea that he's ASOIAF's Pan. (COK Dav I) Indeed, many ancient images of Pan have the god looking like he, too, has something that very much resembles Tyrion's foregrounded "swollen brutish brow".
Check out this dwarfish kisser from a 4th century BCE depiction of Pan. That's basically how I imagine Tyrion looks. Also, that image is not at all dissimilar to gargoyles like this one, right? Which makes sense, since Jon thinks Tyrion looks…
…for all the world like a gargoyle. (GOT J I)
That Nose As many of those same images show, Pan was often portrayed with the same stylized nose as the Satyrs: a "snub"/"puck"/"pug" nose, which again sharply contrasted with the noses of anyone the Greeks or Romans understood to be beautiful, suggesting it was malformed by human standards.
Tyrion's nose, of course, gets hacked off, and afterwards it's referred to repeatedly as a "stub of a nose". I suspect this is GRRM's way of playing with Pan's deformed nose.
Lord Tywin's Bane One of Pan's cult titles was Sinoeis, meaning "Mischief" (Pan is often noted as a mischievous god) and more ominously "Bane". What was Tyrion called, when he was born?
Lord Tywin's Doom, the smallfolk called this ill-made creature, and Lord Tywin's Bane. (TWOIAF)
While walking around drunk in Illyrio's manse, musing about having sex with this or that slave, he declares:
"I could make rather a lot of mischief in Dorne with Myrcella." (DWD Ty I)
Tyrion the Crooked and Pan, Scolitas One of Pan's other cult titles was Scolitas, meaning "Crooked".
It just so happens that Tyrion is heavily coded as "crooked". He gives "a crooked shrug". (COK Ty IV) He has "crooked teeth". (COK San III) And he smiles or grins "crookedly" or shows a "crooked smile" or "crooked grin" eight times.
Tyrion gave her a crooked smile. (GOT Ty I)
The dwarf smiled crookedly. (COK S I)
Tyrion said with a crooked smile. ( Th I)
Tyrion grinned crookedly. (Th II)
Tyrion grinned crookedly. (Th IV)
Tyrion gave a crooked grin. (DWD Ty VIII)
Tyrion gave him a crooked grin. (Ty XII)
This is revelatory considering there are no other "crooked smile[s]" or "crooked grin[s]" in the canon, no one else who "grinned crookedly", and only two other times someone "smiled crookedly". (COK Th I; DWD tTC)
Called "misshapen" and "twisted" over and over, Tyrion is clearly "crooked" in general, such that his penis is surmised to have "a crook in it":
Two of his father's guardsmen were joking about the Imp's whore, saying how sweet it would be to fuck her, and how bad she must want a real cock in place of the dwarf's stunted little thing. "Most like it's got a crook in it," said Lum. (SOS Ty XI)
I think there's a reason GRRM wrote that just as he did rather than giving Lum the more simple line, "Most like it's crooked". And that reason speaks to the origin of Pan's cult title and thus underlines the link between Pan and Tyrion. Pan was the god of shepherds, and when he wasn't depicted with his Pan-pipes/flute (and even sometimes when he is), he was holding his shepherd's "crook". (A crook is a hooked/curved staff.) See e.g. [this image](www.theoi.com/image/Z12.16Dionysos.jpg), or this line from Nonnus's Dionysiaca:
Pan… skipt about quickly beating the sea with his crook and whistling the tune of war on his pipes…
Make no mistake: GRRM is quite familiar with shepherd's crooks:
"Should I die, I will go before the Great Shepherd of Lhazar, break his crook across my knee, and say to him, 'Why did you make your people lambs, when the world is full of wolves?'" (TWOW B I)
With the idea of Pan's crook, i.e. his shepherd's staff, in mind, GRRM's infamous description of Tyrion's penis when Sansa disrobes before him on their wedding night now makes perfect symbolic sense:
Where [Tyrion's] legs joined, his man's staff poked up stiff and hard from a thicket of coarse yellow hair, but it was the only thing about him that was straight. (SOS San III)
First, Tyrion's penis is called his "staff". If Tyrion's penis is a "staff", then logically Lum is floating the idea that Tyrion has a "staff" with "a crook in it", i.e. that Tyrion has a shepherd's staff of the type famously borne by Pan, commonly called a "crook".
Second, if Tyrion's penis is "the only thing about him that was straight", then logically he's otherwise entirely crooked—Tyrion the Crooked, we might say. As befits him if he is ASOIAF's play on Pan Scolitas—Pan the Crooked. (Sidebar: Another word for "crooked" might be "twisted", right? Which makes the Shepherd-ish street preacher's description of Tyrion as a piping, "twisted monkey demon" all the more Pan-ish.)
Sansa's "man's staff" line suggests Tyrion is a Pan-figure in a couple other ways, as well. Note that Tyrion is hard despite himself here, like the often-erect Pan and the always-erect Satyrs with whom he's conflated. Note, too, that Tyrion's erection emerges from a "thicket", a term derived from the natural world and referring to particularly dense, uncultivated vegetation of the sort that grows in the wild places with which Pan was associated.
Indeed, Homer's Hymn to Pan describes Pan going "hither and thither… through the close thickets" of his mountain domain, while a loaded passage from The Dionysiaca puts Pan near an obviously erect Satyr "in a thicket" during Bacchus's (rapacious) wedding-bedding of a Nymph:
And one of the lovemad Satyroi in a thicket hard by, staring insatiate upon the wedding, a forbidden sight, declaimed thus, when he saw the bed of Bacchos with his fair maiden:
"Horned Pan, still running alone after Aphrodite? When will you too be a bridegroom, for Echo whom you chase? Will you ever bring off a trick like this, to aid and abet you in your nuptials never consummated? (The Dionysiaca)
A "lovemad" and "insatiate" Satyr "in a thicket hard by"? Satyrs always had hard-ons, but this one is over-the-top. He's a walking hard-on, in a thicket, just like Tyrion's hard-on is in a thicket. ("Hard by" in this context naturally makes any modern reader think of "hard-ons", notwithstanding that it means "nearby".)
Meanwhile, the horny Satyr speaks of the horned and horny Pan's "nuptials never consummated". Wait a second! Tyrion never consummates his nuptials with Sansa! And that's the context of his un-crooked "staff" hornily rising from his "thicket"! Well of course he doesn't and of course it is, because, I submit, Sansa's line is part of GRRM's riff on both this very text and the underlying myth it embodies, with Sansa playing the role of "Echo" the Nymph and Tyrion playing Pan.
Pan and Echo, Tyrion and Sansa How is Sansa like Echo, and how is Tyrion like Pan-who-loves-Echo?
Echo did not love Pan, while Pan was cursed to forever want her despite himself, much as Sansa has no interest in Tyrion, while Tyrion finds himself wanting Sansa despite himself:
Tyrion had commanded Sansa to wear a sleeping shift as well. I want her, he realized. I want Winterfell, yes, but I want her as well, child or woman or whatever she is. (SOS Ty IV)
("Whatever she is"? A nymph, perhaps?)
Despite wanting Sansa, Tyrion refuses to rape her and claim her maidenhead. And what does Pan say in response to the horny Satyr in the thicket in The Dionysiaca? He laments his love-less fate, and sets up a dichotomy between Bacchus, who uses wine to rape the Nymphs he wants, and himself, who does no such thing.
While Echo had no interest in Pan, she did love Narcissus, a "haughty" man-boy of surpassing beauty who spurned her at every turn, caring only about himself, leaving her miserable and forlorn. Obviously this immediately recalls Sansa's infantile "love" for the explicitly "beautiful", self-absorbed Joffrey, and his utter rejection of her affection.
Doubly so because Echo was cursed to only speak in echoes: She was only ever allowed to repeat what others said, and never to speak for herself. And what are we told about Sansa?
"Some septa trained you well. You're like one of those birds from the Summer Isles, aren't you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite." (GOT San II)
The Hound was right, [Sansa] thought, I am only a little bird, repeating the words they taught me. (GOT San VI)
She's said to be an echo-chamber herself.
Pan plays the Syrinx, known as the Pan-flute or Pan-pipes. At Tyrion and Sansa's wedding, we see both "flute and pipes":
Smiling, [Sansa] let the music take her, losing herself in the steps, in the sound of flute and pipes and harp, in the rhythm of the drum . . . and from time to time in Ser Garlan's arms, when the dance brought them together. (SOS San III)
Sansa "losing herself" in their music and in the dance recalls an ecstatic state of the sort that was key to the worship of Pan and the Pan-affiliated Bacchus/Dionysus. In one ancient text, Pan worries that Echo will be carried away when someone else plays the Pan-flute.
Finally, Echo was explicitly a mountain nymph whom, Homer wrote, "wails about the mountain-top". Sansa, of course, has lately fled to the mountain-top Eyrie with Petyr (a horny, wine-drinking trickster Satyr himself, with a name to match). Once there, she literally "wail[s]" something that sounds very much like the lament of a Nymph fleeing the relentlessly pursuing Pan:
"Why won't they leave us be?" wailed Alayne. (FFC Ala I)
(The story of Alyssa's Tears, by the way, is reminiscent of myths about crying Nymphs turning into pools and fountains.)
Pan and Pitys While Sansa's story riffs on the myth of Echo, at the Eyrie she also seems to reference another mountain Nymph Pan tried to marry: Pitys. Pitys was associated with Arkadia, the remote region of mountain forests known as Pan's home. Pitys "hated marriage", and…
…fled fast as the wind over the mountains to escape the unlawful wooing of Pan. (The Dionysiaca)
To secure her escape from marriage to Pan, she was forced to turn herself into a "mountain-pine". As a pine, she, too, "wailed" on the mountain:
Then [Gaia] may perhaps lament the sorrows and the fate of the wailing Nymphe [Pitys]. (ibid.)
Not only does Sansa "wail" in the Eyrie after she escapes Tyrion; she also dresses like a tree:
The dress she picked was lambswool, dark brown and simply cut, with leaves and vines embroidered around the bodice, sleeves, and hem in golden thread. (FFC Ala I)
Note, too, that her dress is "lambswool". Virgil wrote that Pan (the "shepherd-god") seduced Luna, the Moon, using "snowy wool". Sansa is, of course, the de facto Lady of the Eyrie, which is heavily associated with the moon.
Tyrion's Other Nymphs? It's interesting that Penny is likened to a "timid woodland creature":
Penny finally emerged from her cabin, creeping up on deck like some timid woodland creature emerging from a long winter's sleep. (DWD Ty VIII)
Pan was right at home is forests, of course, and this description of Penny makes her sound like a Dryad, a shy Tree Nymph. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dryad)
I'd also note that the whole Tyrion-Tysha storyline has a certain Pan-Nymph feel, inasmuch as Tyrion wistfully remembers Tysha as a lost love that got away, whereas Pan, similarly bereft of love, is forever being reminded of the various Nymphs who escaped him by various natural phenomena.
Pan and Tyrion, Arcadia and the Vale, the Satyrs and the Clansmen. Let's talk about the way Tyrion's involvement with the the Satyr-like Mountain Clans of the Vale reworks Pan's association with Satyrs and goats—Pan was a part-goat "herdsman", called "Goatherd Pan"—as well as Pan's affinity for mountainous wild places like his homeland: rugged and rustic Arkadia.
Ancient Arkadia was a "remote, mountainous" region celebrated as an "unspoiled wilderness". (wikipedia: Arcadia [ancient region]) It was the center of the worship of Pan—
The worship of Pan began in Arcadia which was always the principal seat of his worship. (wikipedia: Pan)
—but it was also central to Pan's mythology, as it was believed that…
Pan idled in the rugged countryside of Arkadia, playing his panpipes and chasing Nymphs. (theoi.com: Pan)
The Vale and the surrounding, "unincorporated" environs of the Mountains of the Moon could easily be termed a "remote, mountainous" region. The Vale is explicitly…
Isolated from the rest of Westeros by its towering mountains… (TWOIAF)
The domain of Tyrion's clansmen sounds very much like Arkadia:
The eastern road was wilder and more dangerous, climbing through rocky foothills and thick forests into the Mountains of the Moon, past high passes and deep chasms to the Vale of Arryn.…
Yet the mountain road was perilous. Shadowcats prowled those passes, rock slides were common, and the mountain clans were lawless brigands, descending from the heights to rob and kill and melting away like snow whenever the knights rode out from the Vale in search of them. (GOT C V)
Note the way the clansmen are posited as if they're an almost magical part of the natural environment, and recall that the Satyrs with whom Pan was so closely associated were "spirits of the countryside and wilds." (theoi.com: Satyroi)
The mountain pines/fir trees of Arkadia were sacred to Pan, because the Nymph Pitys fled his attempt to marry her by changing into one. Similar trees clearly cover the Mountains of the Moon, as we see when Tyrion is being led to the Eyrie:
Beyond was dense forest of pine and spruce, and the mountain like a black wall… (GOT C VI)
Their peaks are specifically called "grey-green"
The Vale of Arryn—a long, wide, fertile valley entirely ringed by the great grey-green peaks of the mighty Mountains of the Moon—is as rich as it is beautiful. (TWOIAF)
—which tells us that they're covered by sentinels: trees which are ubiquitously described as "grey-green" and which are obviously pines or firs, given that they're covered in "needles". (GOT Pro)
Per wikipedia:
Arcadia was a district of mountain people, culturally separated from other Greeks.
Tyrion's mountain clansmen are likewise a people living distinctly apart from the customs, politics and peoples of the Seven Kingdoms proper:
…the clans that dwelt in the mountain fastnesses… bowed to no law but the sword. (GOT Ty IV)
The mountain clans cared nothing for the enmities of the great houses; (GOT Ty IV)
The clans of the Mountains of the Moon are clearly descendants of the First Men who did not bend the knee to the Andals and so were driven into the mountains. Furthermore, there are similarities in their customs to the customs of the wildlings beyond the Wall—such as bride-stealing, a stubborn desire to rule themselves, and the like—and the wildlings are indisputably descended from the First Men. (TWOIAF)
Little better than the free folk beyond the Wall, these mountain clans, too, are called wildlings by the civilized. (TWOIAF)
The clansmen are, of course, heavily associated with Tyrion, who (like a pied piper) leads a small army of them out of the wilds and into civilization (like Pan the "herdsman" might), practically becoming their chieftain.
They are also heavily associated with goats. To wit, consider Tyrion's first parlay with them:
"I fear we've no wine to offer you, but you're welcome to some of our goat."
All movement stopped. Tyrion saw the glint of moonlight on metal. "Our mountain," a voice called out from the trees, deep and hard and unfriendly. "Our goat."
"Your goat," Tyrion agreed. "Who are you?"
"When you meet your gods," a different voice replied, "say it was Gunthor son of Gurn of the Stone Crows who sent you to them." A branch cracked underfoot as he stepped into the light; a thin man in a horned helmet, armed with a long knife. (GOT Ty VI)
Sidebar: Note the man's horns (as in a Satyr's).
The Mountains of the Moon are clearly riddled with goats. The legend of Artys Arryn's conquest of the Vale involves a goat track—
Ser Artys Arryn had clad one of his knights retainer in his spare suit of armor, leaving him in camp whilst he himself took his best horsemen up and around a goat track that he remembered from his childhood, so they might reappear behind the First Men and descend on them from above. (TWOIAF)
—and Shagga and then Tyrion constantly reference chopping off penises and feeding them to goats. E.g.:
"Shagga, cut off his manhood and feed it to the goats."
Shagga hefted the huge double-bladed axe. "There are no goats, Halfman."
"Make do."- Tyrion (COK Ty VI)
("Goats, Halfman"? Pan is, famously "one half goat, the other half man.")
As I've said, ASOIAF is playing with Greek myth. Tyrion doesn't have goat legs or horns, nor a set of Pan-pipes; instead we get a slew of "throwaway" references to goats in Tyrion's story, while Tyrion is a kind of pied piper to the clansmen.
Meanwhile, the clansmen act like Satyrs, which underlines the idea that Tyrion is a Pan-figure per Pan's heavy association with and at times conflation with Satyrs. How are the clansmen set up as figurative Satyrs?
I already mentioned that the first clansmen who appears when Tyrion seduces them is "horned" (like a latter-day, Pan-esque goat-Satyr), and that the first mention of the "mountain clans" paints them as an almost magical natural force capable of "melting away like snow", whereas the Satyroi were considered to be "nature spirits". The remote and rugged Mountains of the Moon are, by the way, just the sort of environment associated with Satyrs, who "were believed to inhabit remote locales, such as woodlands, mountains, and pastures." (wikipedia: Satyrs)
In AGOT, the clansmen wear unspecified "skins": Shagga first appears "dressed all in skins", then Tyrion wonders what Tywin "would make of them in their skins and bits of stolen steel". (GOT Ty VII) The Dionysiaca specifies that Satyrs, too, wear animal skins: specifically "the hairy skin of the [very] mountain goats" with whom the clansmen are so closely associated.
Beyond that, I think this passage in which Tyrion is leading his clansmen at the Battle of the Green Fork is loaded with suggestions that they're figurative Satyrs:
The clansmen climbed onto their scrawny mountain horses, shouting curses and rude jokes. Several appeared to be drunk. The rising sun was burning off the drifting tendrils of fog as Tyrion led them off. What grass the horses had left was heavy with dew, as if some passing god had scattered a bag of diamonds over the earth. The mountain men fell in behind him, each clan arrayed behind its own leaders. (GOT Ty VIII)
The clansmen are explicitly drunk. Satyrs were always depicted as wine-guzzling drunks, and were often companions to Dionysus/Bacchus, the Greek/Roman god of wine, intoxication and ecstasy. (Dionysus's quasi-Satyr tutofoster-father Silenus, god of drunkenness, was per some myths (a) father of the Satyrs and (b) Pan's son.)
The clansmen are riding "scrawny mountain horses". What else are we told about the their horses? They're like goats:
Behind them—after a quick bit of grumbling—the five clansmen followed on their under-size garrons, scrawny things that looked like ponies and scrambled up rock walls like goats. (GOT Ty VII)
Thus the mounted clansmen are metaphorically traveling on goats' legs, like a band of goat-legged (latterday) Satyrs. Meanwhile, the conflation of their horses with goats recalls the transition from the classically Greek Satyrs, which had horses' tails and occasionally legs, to the now more familiar faun-like/Pan-form Satyrs with goat legs.
We also get an image of natural beauty that seems divinely touched. Again:
The rising sun was burning off the drifting tendrils of fog as Tyrion led them off. What grass the horses had left was heavy with dew, as if some passing god had scattered a bag of diamonds over the earth.
The ostentatious reference to divinely-scattered dew coupled with the "drifting tendrils of fog" smells like a riff on the very same section of The Dionysiaca which saw a Satyr with a hard-on in the middle of a thicket giving Pan shit about his "nuptials never consummated" with the Nymph Echo. How so? Because Pan showed up just as a forlorn "lovesmitten herdsmen" who'd loved the Nymph being raped by Bacchus departed in the form of "misty smoke", and because immediately after Pan responded to the Satyr, the Nymph raped by Bacchus woke up and…
…saw her own maiden zone wet with the wedding dew… (The Dionysiaca)
…which, it's quickly clarified, was indeed "divine". Divine semen:
Now lined with the divine dew, the seed of [Bacchus], she carried a burden in her womb (ibid.)
ASOIAF's "divine dew" is left by "some passing god". Thus it's as if Tyrion and the clansmen are riding in that god's train. It would seem per the textual connections to The Dionysiaca that that passing god is Dionysus/Bacchus. Since Pan and the Satyrs are a ubiquitous parts of the Bacchus's "train"—as are the Nymphs, according to Homer—then it just makes sense that Tyrion and the clansmen "are" ASOIAF's Pan and the Satyrs.
Finally, the drunk clansmen are "shouting curses and rude jokes". This is Satyr-ish to the extreme. The ancient Greeks' Satyrs were "drunk and boisterous" in general, and there was an entire genre of Greek plays called "[Satyr plays]" which featured a chorus of "wanton, saucy, and insolent" Satyrs parodying tragedy with their "crude", "bawdy and obscene humor" humor.
"Loud-Voiced" Pan was fucking loud.
Per various ancient text at theoi.com:
The herdsman Pan sang loudly…
Louder than all trumpets sounds [Pan's] voice alone.
[Pan] …from his birth was… a noisy, merry-laughing child.
[Pan is] loud-voiced in the dance, roaring like the sea; … the sea is noisy
That last two lines jump out, because baby Tyrion's "monstrous great voice"—
"…sometimes at night we could hear a baby howling down in the depths of the Rock. You did have a monstrous great voice, I must grant you that." - Oberyn to Tyrion (SOS Ty V)
—seemed to emanate from "the depths of the Rock," which just so happens to be the same place one normally hears "thunder from below where the sea comes in", which sounds just like Pan's propensity to roar like the noisy sea:
"I had been thinking that when the roads are safe again, we might journey to Casterly Rock." … "It would please me to show you… the Hall of Heroes where Jaime and I played as boys. You can hear thunder from below where the sea comes in . . ." - Tyrion (SOS Ty VIII)
The adult Tyrion can be "loud-voiced" like Pan as well:
Tyrion spoke up loudly… (GOT Ty IV)
"If I am ever Hand again, the first thing I'll do is hang all the singers," said Tyrion, too loudly. (SOS Ty VIII)
"Is this how justice is done in the Vale?" Tyrion roared, so loudly that Ser Vardis froze for an instant. (Ty V)
That last line is particularly noteworthy, as it's both (a) really loud, and (b) vaguely reminiscent of Pan's capacity to instill sudden panic in people. (His name is the origin of the term "panic".)
CONTINUED IN OLDEST COMMENT, [LINKED HERE]. submitted by M_Tootles to asoiaf [link] [comments]


2019.09.04 07:35 SingaporeanSloth Black cabin masturbation

Singapore is largely considered one of the "normal" parts of Asia. Boring. We don't have cartoon porn of barely legal girls on our skyscrapers. We didn't open hunting season on drug traffickers and "drug traffickers". We aren't even that corrupt. So... boring. Like any West Coast American or Western European city, but transported onto a little tropical island on the equator and filled with (more) yellow and brown people of various sorts (don't worry, I'm ethnically Chinese, I got a license to make that sort of comment) and with better food (especially seafood)
But underneath the veneer of normalcy, Singaporeans are a surprisingly superstitious bunch. Perhaps it's due to the great variety of peoples that live there. Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Taoist, Buddhists, traditional Chinese beliefs and much older stories and legends, from when Singapore was still a deep, dark jungle, full of strange things, coexists side by side. Then you combine it with decades of relative racial and religious harmony and Singaporeans' tendency to hedge their bets and you end up with an island full of superstitions. Even people who have their own religion (I'm pretty much an atheist) respect the customs of others, y'know, JUST IN CASE (!!!), and may even believe in all of them to some extent
And what part of Singaporean society would be more superstitious than the Singapore Armed Forces? When your day to day life can often involve the use of all sorts of death-dealing hardware, and much of how well or badly the day will go is up to chance and far beyond your control, how superstitious the Singapore Armed Forces shouldn't be a surprise. For example, it isn't unusual to see a 5-ton truck with a couple of joss sticks taped to the side mirrors, a crucifix or rosary in the cabin and a few more assorted amulets and charms
Then to top it off, the military base where I did most of my 2 years of National Service (NS, conscription), Selarang Camp has a long and dark history. It was first built in the days when the sun would never set on British Empire, then when Singapore fell to the armies of Imperial Japan was used to intern Allied prisoners of war under terrible conditions, not to mention the numerous atrocities such as executions that were carried out there. There were widespread rumours (not sure how true they were) that many bodies are still buried beneath the camp, and ghost stories abounded (for example, it was said that when the MPs brought dogs into the camp the dogs would freeze up when crossing the vehicle park and would stare at the multi-purpose hall, allegedly built over the site of a mass grave)
Against this backdrop, enter our 3 main characters: myself, SingaporeanSloth; Fuckboi Extreme (heretofore identified as FuBx), a member of my company's company marksmen team (a 2-man team armed with M110s who's role in the field was to provide long-range fire support against high-value enemy targets like MGs, officers and radiomen) and a close personal friend of mine and last, but not least, Hands-in-Pants (heretofore identified as HaPs), one of the company signallers (a radioman), another friend of mine and well-known for being a masturbation addict
The night this story happened, we were on guard duty. The units at each Singapore Army base have to do guard duty, with the number of men each have to provide based of their size. Being an infantry battalion, the bulk of guard duty fell on us. Soldiers were chosen for guard duty based on 2 ways, rotationally or as a punishment. FuBx got himself in trouble often and so was a regular at the guard house. I've forgotten whether he was specifically being punished that night or it had simply rotated to him. HaPs and I were there rotationally. The total guard duty "crew" each night at Selarang Camp consisted of 12 men: 3 guys doing sentry duty, 4 guys doing prowler duty, 2 sergeants acting as the guard commander, 2 guys in the guard room and finally a duty officer (DOS) who did other stuff in addition to overseeing guard duty. Sentry and prowler duty was done in shifts of 2 hours each, with there being 3 shifts of sentry and 2 shifts of prowler duty. Sentry was a 1 man job, an involved sitting in a small bunker, guarding the only gate the camp had an alerting the guard room to people/vehicles entering or exiting the camp. Prowler was a 2 man foot patrol that walked the perimeter of the base, electronically checking into checkpoints along the way to confirm they were doing their job. The remaining guys and the guard commanders sat in the guard room and watched the CCTVs and opened the gate to let people/vehicles in/out.
That night, I partnered up with FuBx to do prowler duty, since, while undeniably more tiring, it was much less boring than sentry duty. HaPs was on sentry duty, and it just so happened that our shifts lined up
Our first patrol began uneventfully, and we shot the shit as we walked. We spoke about girls, about the great lives we would live once we got out, and we bitched about the Army. Other than deliberately disturbing an ant nest (and me getting ants in my boots as a result), nothing happened during our first patrol. As our patrol came to an end, and we were walking back to the guard room (and the bunker where HaPs was) for a break, we decided to play a prank on HaPs. Going full soldier mode, we crept along a hedge row that ran behind and almost all the way up to the bunker in the darkness that HaPs was in. Finally, we could see him, his back turned to us
It says a lot about how bored we were that we thought that playing a prank on a guy with an assault rifle loaded with live rounds would be funny
"Aaaaaaaaaaah!!!" We shouted, springing up on him from behind. We were rewarded with a panicked yelp as he spun around, eyes wide with terror
"You fucking dickheads, you bloody bastards!" He cursed at us, as we laughed at him. Then he began chuckling "Fuck off lah, go back to the guard room. I thought you guys were a bunch of ghosts"
That was what we did, before catching a 3 hour nap, then heading back out for our 2nd and last patrol of the night. Little did we know, though, that there was a bad moon rising that night. Or bad juju in the air. Or maybe the real ghosts didn't appreciate us pretending to be them. Either way, little did we know, our next patrol would be... freaky
The first weird thing that happened was when we walked past the multi-purpose hall (MPH), one of the first buildings after leaving the guard room. The MPH was a huge, 2-storey building with the cookhouse that we ate at beneath a large hall that was used for indoor PT, ceremonies and addresses. At the time, it was about 0200. Almost all the lights in the camp were off, and the MPH was a huge, black, hulking shape in the darkness of the night. All the civilians working on the base had gone home. Pretty damn sure almost all the soldiers in the camp had left or were sleeping
Yet I saw a light. A strange, purple/blue light flickered on and off again and again, a little like a camera flash, a little like a flashlight. It seemed to be coming from an open corridolanding that ran around the 2nd storey of the MPH, and was moving around in a bobbing way. Yet when the light was off I couldn't see anyone or anything that the light could have come from. It seemed to be coming out of thin air. I stared at it, transfixed.
"FuBx, did you see that?"
"See what?"
"That light, at the MPH"
FuBx and I then stopped, and he looked at the MPH. The light flickered on and off a few more times
"Yeah I see it"
"It's weird right? Should we go check it out?"
"Check it out?!?! Fuck no!" FuBx said, looking at me with wide eyes "I'm not checking that out"
I briefly considered checking it out on my own, but then decided better.
"Should we radio it in to the guard room?" I asked (we carried a radio with us)
"Don't! They'll make us check it out. And let's not alarm them. You've heard the stories about this place, let's just move on"
Somewhat uneasily, we moved on. We walked past our own battalion's barracks and one of the huge military car parks without incident, then we headed past the back of another vehicle park. We were walking along a road that ran behind the barracks where the drivers of the transport unit at our base slept, when FuBx needed to take a shit. We decided to use the toilet of the transport unit barracks
So while FuBx took a shit, I kept watch at the door, since that wasn't actually allowed (we were supposed to radio the guard room if we were unable to patrol for any reason, and they would send out another patrol to take over, which would piss of whoever got sent out). The toilet was U-shaped, with the shitters and sinks down one arm and the showers down the other. The door was nearest the shower arm and I, while FuBx was shitting down the further arm
Then we heard it. An extremely distinctive sound; like the sound of an empty shampoo bottle knocking against one of the plastic dividers that separated the shower cubicles. The knocking repeated and continued, but I was quite sure we were the only 2 people in the toilet. We had been in there a few minutes before it started, but had heard no one else. None of the showers were running. The sound was coming from down the the arm with the showers, and from where I was I could see into each of the showers, except the last one. The sound seemed to be coming from there. At this point I was so freaked out I actually raised my SAR21 assault rifle and aimed it at the last cubicle
"Sloth?!?! What are you doing?!?!"
"I'm not doing anything man!"
"Then what's that sound?"
"I dunno. JUST HURRY UP AND SHIT!"
After what seemed like an eternity of waiting for FuBx to finish up his shit, with the knocking continuing, FuBx came barreling out of his cubicle
"What the fuck!" He muttered as he saw how freaked out I was, with my rifle raised, then he ran past me and out the toilet and I backed out after him
We quickly got away from the toilet and resumed our patrol
"Dude, I think that was a ghost!" FuBx said to me as we walked
"You think that sound was a ghost?"
"I mean, yeah?!?! Like ghosts don't just come up to you and say 'Hey, I'm a ghost!' Y'know? They do all kinds of scary shit like that"
"Yeah well, let's just never use that toilet again, okay?"
Which was a shame, because it was nice and clean, a rarity on a military base
Finally, our patrol was coming to an end. Heading to the guard room along a different approach, we passed through the building of 9th Division HQ. The entrance of that building also faced the rear of the bunker that HaPs was in. We looked at each other, and we knew what to do
It says a lot about how stupid we were that even after all this spooky stuff we wanted to play a prank on a guy with a loaded assault rifle
Peeking out of the entrance of 9DIV HQ, we saw HaPs actually standing outside of his bunker. I supposed we must have given him a good fright the last time. He was actually walking around a little, his SAR21 at the "low alert" position
Finding a corner without any CCTVs, FuBx and I began stomping around in our boots, making all kind of sounds. In between, we would peek out of the entrance to look at HaPs. He was clearly becoming more and more freaked out
Finally, we decided we were gonna end things and reveal ourselves to HaPs. But at that very moment, as we were gonna leave, FuBx turned back to talk to me (so he was facing into 9DIV HQ and I was facing out the entrance) when he shouted "what the fuck?!?!"
"What happened?" I asked
"Dude, that light just turned off on its own!"
I turned back, and honestly don't remember whether the light behind us was on or off when we first entered the building
FuBx had had enough that night. He ran out of 9DIV HQ, quickly told HaPs that we were making the noises, and then ran back to the guard room in a split second. I was left standing there, at the entrance of 9DIV HQ, alone
Before I left, I took one last look into 9DIV HQ
That was when, I shit you not, I can tell you I literally saw with my own eyes a poster on a stand that had fallen onto the ground float back upright without a sound
That was enough for me. I ran back to the guard room, just like FuBx and HaPs. After putting my rifle back on the rack, I joined FuBx and HaPs and we slept till the next morning
I'm sure someone can think of a rational explanation for everything we saw that night. Sleep deprivation may have had something to do with it. We were a light infantry battalion that was often out on exercise, and my bunk was noisy so I had little good sleep those 2 years. But it certainly was creepy
TLDR: Guards on guard duty decided to scare each other, ended up getting scared by a real (?) ghost
I have more sp00ky tales of my time in the Singapore Army, let me know if you wanna hear them!
Edit: spelling and grammar
submitted by SingaporeanSloth to MilitaryStories [link] [comments]


2019.08.03 08:26 satanssugarbabyy I think I was raped my a demon or entity and would appreciate insight

Sorry it’s long.
Hey reddit, I’ve had many encounters with the paranormal but there is one experience that I guess I’m still looking for closure or an explanation on. So I was 18 and living with a roommate for the first time. At this point nothing had bothered me sense about a year before when I broke up with my ex (it was at his house). My new roommate and I lived in a little cabin in the woods with a lot of space away from our neighbors. There was a creek nearby and I guess I should also mention the animal bones we found by the creek. Looked like a few goat skeletons and maybe other large animals like deer and a bull. The skeletons were pretty clean and the bones were just in a pile. It was in an area with a cool rock maze humans had made and a fire pit. The house also did not have any curtains but had a lot of windows. As it was in the woods and it would be pitch black at night we decided it was really creepy and got curtains ASAP. The only thing I know about who lived there before us was that it was a man and his daughter. We had a few mutual friends and they all said he was a cool guy. No one mentioned entities or anything like that.
I actually feel like this thing may have followed me to my new home two hours away after this story took place, but that’s another story. I’m almost 23 now and haven’t been bothered sense I was about 19-20. I knew something was there but my roommate didn’t believe me (yet). I’m not sure what the first few signs were but we eventually both agreed that it would mess with the doorknob at night and tap on the door. It would mess around behind the fridge too. I questioned if that was just the noise this fridge was supposed to make but I’ve never heard another fridge do this and I swear it would mess with me and react to my emotions. It was like tapping and stuff. Sounded like the alien chatter from the movie Signs (good alien movie if you haven’t seen it). One day when I was home alone I actually started getting angry at it. As I started to feel myself get angry it got louder and LOUDER. I basically had a panic attack for an hour after that until my roommate got home. I told her all this and she didn’t believe me. Then I went to visit family out of town for a week. When I came back she told me it basically made her its new primary because I was gone. She stayed at her parents house every night that week. We both heard everything after that. Then one day my bed started shaking. There are a lot of earth quakes in this area but nothing else would shake. I thought it was weird and with all the other activity it made me uncomfortable. I wanted it to stop and as soon as I had this thought it did. And this only happened when I was sitting or laying in my bed. After that it happened a few more times in the same way. Would stop when I told it to (not verbally but in my head). After this I could make it start just by thinking about it. And make it stop the same way. I tested it twice to see how severe the movement would get but I stopped it before it got to intense. We had a few parties with other young adults and got drunk a few times a month in the house. One night I was much more intoxicated than usual and I actually lost both sets of car keys to my brand new car. I kept my cigarettes in the car and kept going in and out of the car to get them. I’d stash my keys in the closet just so they didn’t get lost and I remember going to set one down and it just ..moved in thin air from my hand and disappeared into my closet. I didn’t think much of it because I was so intoxicated. Sounds silly but I just assumed my mind was playing tricks on me because I was so drunk. The next day I couldn’t find either key. Had to pay to have my car door opened the next day and found BOTH sets of keys locked in my car. That same night I had gone to bed before my roommate and a few people were still at the party. I locked my door and went to bed. I remember waking up late in the night and knowing the party was over and everyone had gone home. But I heard furniture sliding all over the house (we had wood floors). I didn’t know what was going on but was to tired to care. Probably not long after that I remember knowing someone or something was having sex with me. I woke up and was actually pinned up against the wall (my waist was on the bed but upper body was against the wall). I knew I was being raped because of the rocking of my bed but I was to terrified to open my eyes. I didn’t know how to cope with what was happening so I made myself pass out. Woke up the next morning to find my door locked and furniture as we left it. My female roommates first question when we woke up was “Who we’re you having sex with last night?” I didn’t really remember what happened at that exact moment but that’s because I kind of made myself forget and had just woken up. I told her no one and asked why she thought that. She said she heard my bed start going back and forward late in the night for about an hour. She said there was no moans or any other noise, just the bed rocking. I asked if she heard the furniture move and she also did hear it. That’s all she heard. I asked her over and over again if there was any other sign of who could have gone in my room. She was as clueless as me. Physically, I did not feel like I had sex. No moisture, no soreness, etc. I’m female and it’s always obvious to me when I’ve had sex or masturbated. We only lived here for 4 months. Then I moved two hours away and have a huge mess of encounters after that that even followed me to another house but I finally shut it all off. I never had an encounter like this one again though.
If anyone with credibility has any idea what this could have been please let me know. I appreciate any help. This was years ago and still really bothers me. Especially as I have read many stories about humans voluntarily having sex with entities.
Thanks for reading such a long story.
submitted by satanssugarbabyy to demons [link] [comments]