Sometime in the distant future.
Life's unofficial camera zoomed in expeditiously, auto-focus scrambling to clarify the figure currently cloaked in anonymity. A litany of furrows and ridges that resembled interconnected cracks lining a scorched wasteland, tufts of close-cropped, salt and pepper-colored hair, and a callow, mischievous glint synonymous with hypnotic hazels permeated his handsome, wizened visage. The gentleman's sprightly, yet guttural intonation was hoarse due to the decreased timbre of advanced age, not to mention the corollary of neat, Scotland-distilled, malted barley-based whiskey perched alongside him like a constant confidant. Repositioning upon the ancient, creaking rocking chair, and inching excitedly forward, the elderly raconteur commenced.
"Want to know how I met [your character], huh? Don't blame you; it's a chronicle for the ages."
First, though, was some requisite imbibing. Recessive appendage relocated to the foregoing four-fingered pour, clasping around the tumbler's crystalline circumference and affording parched lips and palate paramount piquancy. Subsequently, the amber-colored alcohol started its sublime peregrination through the ex-biker's bloodstream en route to a three-pronged assault upon his cerebral cortex, limbic system, and cerebellum, in that particular order.
Ahem. Much better. Continuing accordingly.
"Following a whirlwind decade firmly entrenched in the rock 'n' roll universe, I bowed out at the apex of my profession—on top of the world, or so the aphorism went—as a successful musician. Long story; we'll get to that eventually. With the remainder of my years on the horizon, and as a self-proclaimed drifter who changed direction with the variability of prevailing gusts, I yearned for something . . . more. Couldn't exactly retire in my '20s as a Walmart greeter, you know? Everything was going to work itself out, of that much I was steadfastly convinced.
That's where [you] unexpectedly entered the picture, a contemporary incarnation of Aphrodite who captivated bystanders, myself foremost in an interminable line; an oasis amid a sprawling, desiccated desert. While desperately seeking the next can't-miss opportunity, that chance fortuitously materialized in the form of the most captivating and comely woman I'd ever encounter. From that incontrovertible enthrallment blossomed the impetus of our saga, which went a little something like this . . ."
OOC Lowdown:
... keep reading on reddit ➡
Main entry: Bad Boy (bad boy, what'cha gonna do)
Part of speech: Noun informal
Definition: A man who does not conform to approved standards of behavior, especially in a particular sphere of activity. See Walsh, Carson.
Actual testimonials from a smattering of exes, flings, and other women scorned (Hell hath no fury quite like them) by Carson:
☑ "Cee's a silver-tongued, dimpled, dashing Devil; tattooed trouble on two wheels."
☑ "How would I describe Walsh in a word? Womanizer. Confident. Impetuous. Witty. [Censored.] Need I say more?"
☑ "Total charmer. Surprisingly intelligent, too. A brawny, bibulous biker whose sweet side belies his rock star persona."
☑ "He's the exact guy your parents warned you about, but you ignored them anyway and enjoyed the ride, potholes and all."
☑ "★★★★★ / ★★★★★. Still hate him, though."
OOC Lowdown:
- Straight male seeking long-term storylines with like-minded individuals of the female persuasion who are amenable to brainstorming and collaboration.
- Those who have preexisting and well-defined characters get to ditch to the front of the line.
- Realistic face-claims preferred.
- For more information on my character, including a profile, background information, writing samples, et cetera, see the link in my profile.
- Feel free to ask for my Discord handle. Extremely DM friendly!
- Life's too short—let's have fun while we're still here. Please don't hesitate to hit me up!
I'm so lost in all of this. I guess I could say that I'm predominantly a freeze type and have been emotionally numb for the most part of my life. I'm still stuck in denial and confusion about if I even experienced anything traumatic and this after a year of therapy. How do I even figure out if I was traumatized when I have no or very few memories of it? And how do I get past denial?
I know this might sound stupid or maybe even outright ridiculous, I really don't mean to appropriate on childhood traumas by saying that you can get traumatized by a hobby but I'm trying to put pieces together of how much my forced childhood hobby has influenced me. I'm also aware that I'm going to sound like a spoiled brat and ungrateful idiot for writing about this but please hear me out.
I'm having a real hard time putting pieces together because of this and it also makes me feel like an entitled kid and spoiled brat. I was gifted with my first own horse when I was 8, I still don't know if I really wanted one, I just kind of got one because it was my mothers big dream (she's completely crazy about horses and it was her own big childhood dream) I just went along and did what was expected. Between ages of 8 and 17 I owned 6 horses, trained them and competed in show jumping. I made horses my biggest hobby, still don't know if I really wanted it or because it was forced upon me (probably the latter) I couldn't really explore any other hobbies or my own wants and dreams because the fucking horses took up all the time and money, for those of you who doesn't know, having a horse takes up enormous amounts of time and money. I just have a vague memory of finding it really tiresome, and that I really didn't feel like it but had no choice than to train my horses all the time.
I wasn't even good at it and never succeeded, I trained and practiced so much of the time and was gifted with horses that were to difficult for me or outright dangerous, this led to a constant disappointment, repeated failures and an over all feeling of shame, I was always the loser and I were never good enough (I'm still very much in this state of mind, completely convinced that I'm born a failure)
We were always short on money and my mom constantly reminded me of this, still she was able to come up with money whenever it involved horses. In hindsight I'm pretty convinced that she brought several pretty huge bank loans upon herself due to this and she still owes huge amounts of money to the state (it's really none of my business anymore). I know this sounds incredibly idiotic and that I was a really spoiled brat for having my own horses and then have the guts to complain about it.
Still, the horses were the only thing that were constant during my childhood. We moved around a lot when I was growing up (7 times until age 11 and 12-13 times if you count summer houses and my dad
... keep reading on reddit ➡Do your worst!
For context I'm a Refuse Driver (Garbage man) & today I was on food waste. After I'd tipped I was checking the wagon for any defects when I spotted a lone pea balanced on the lifts.
I said "hey look, an escaPEA"
No one near me but it didn't half make me laugh for a good hour or so!
Edit: I can't believe how much this has blown up. Thank you everyone I've had a blast reading through the replies 😂
It really does, I swear!
I'm surprised it hasn't decade.
They’re on standbi
Buenosdillas
Pilot on me!!
Dad jokes are supposed to be jokes you can tell a kid and they will understand it and find it funny.
This sub is mostly just NSFW puns now.
If it needs a NSFW tag it's not a dad joke. There should just be a NSFW puns subreddit for that.
Edit* I'm not replying any longer and turning off notifications but to all those that say "no one cares", there sure are a lot of you arguing about it. Maybe I'm wrong but you people don't need to be rude about it. If you really don't care, don't comment.
When I got home, they were still there.
Main entry: Bad Boy (bad boy, what'cha gonna do)
Part of speech: Noun informal
Definition: A man who does not conform to approved standards of behavior, especially in a particular sphere of activity. See Walsh, Carson.
Actual testimonials from a smattering of exes, flings, and other women scorned (Hell hath no fury quite like them) by Carson:
☑ "Cee's a silver-tongued, dimpled, dashing Devil; tattooed trouble on two wheels."
☑ "How would I describe Walsh in a word? Womanizer. Confident. Impetuous. Witty. [Censored.] Need I say more?"
☑ "Total charmer. Surprisingly intelligent, too. A brawny, bibulous biker whose sweet side belies his rock star persona."
☑ "He's the exact guy your parents warned you about, but you ignored them anyway and enjoyed the ride, potholes and all."
☑ "★★★★★ / ★★★★★. Still hate him, though."
OOC Lowdown:
- Straight male seeking long-term storylines with like-minded individuals of the female persuasion who are amenable to brainstorming and collaboration.
- Those who have preexisting and well-defined characters get to ditch to the front of the line.
- Realistic face-claims preferred.
- For more information on my character, including a profile, background information, writing samples, et cetera, see the link in my profile.
- Feel free to ask for my Discord handle. Extremely DM friendly!
- Life's too short—let's have fun while we're still here. Please don't hesitate to hit me up!
