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Your release had increased so much that they could no longer contain you. Your cum has consumed the entirety of the cosmos. Humanity is without a shred of doubt, gone. You are alone in the universe. If there were aliens, they are dead now. It’s over. In despair, you mourn the death of the scientists, of humanity, of everyone. You realize you'll never hear her sweet and calming voice, see her proud body. Your sad. Your terrified. Chronicles pass. The last stars in the universe eclipse. You silently watch as the last atoms break into protons, into quarks, into mere beams of weak energy that disperse along the vertical ropes. But the ropes no longer play their docile music. They have gonne silent. You watch, helplessly, as the Last mozon is engulfed into the ever expanding plane of Cum. Your own creation destroys the very own universe, defying the own plan of existence. You are alone. You scream, but nothing comes out of your mouth. You cry, but nothing descends from your eyes. Do you even have eyes? All you can see is the torrid Instotucional white across the whole of the Universe. Entire Gans eclipse before your eyes, but then you realize the horror: The Cum turned against you. With nothing more to consume, your sons turned against their father, and begin to consume you. You tremble. There's nothing to do. The huge weight impacts you like if whole planets fell onto your shoulders. Your alone. In your last moments, a odd sentiment of peace invades you for the first time since the early days of the universe. It's finally gonna end. You think about all the people that you've met during your stay in this universe. In the end, you think about the researcher. About her arms. Her breasts. You feel... good. For the first time in many hipereons. You jack off it. It's so.... good, you come at the right time, freeing the constrained cum from your menber. You open your eyes, and behold the bathroom door. You are Ok. You remember everything. It's all over. You exit the bathroom after jacking off again, going back to your old life. The cum stops.

It's not that the game is addicting, it's just that there are no decent alternatives. War Thunder is basically the intellectual version of the FPS games that all the stupid children and mongoloid brains play. Instead of just being based purely on twitch "skills" which require as much intellectual ability as closing popup spam windows, in War Thunder you have to use at least some tactics and strategy. FPS games are like playing Pong on high speed. War Thunder is like playing chess. The art of gaming is simply dead for big brains. 20 years ago there were tons of games that required brainpower because PC gaming back then was by nerds and for nerds, but then the corporate suits took over and were like "broaden the appeal to we can make more sales" so everything got dumbed down to the lowest common denominator. My GF asked me if I was "having fun" playing War Thunder, and I looked at her like she was a fucking retard to even consider that sentence a valid question. I don't have FUN playing War Thunder. This game routinely pisses me off and makes me rage. However, when I stomp the entire enemy team and crush them so utterly I can hear the lamentations of their mothers, I feel satisfaction. I spent weeks grinding for Operation Winter. The vikings had a word for this. They called it Valhalla. Endless war. Endless combat. Knowing only victory and death. Bathing in the blood of your enemies. You get 15 kills and bask in glory and rewards, and think: what should I do now? Should I get in my Honda Fit and tour the local strip mall for my Triumph? Should I microwave some tendies and throw myself a great Feast? But there is only one option. There is only ever one option. To Battle! Various cultures have alternatively described the gameplay loop of War Thunder as their vision of Heaven or Hell. It is both.

So me (69m) and my friend (69m) were at waffle house (7300 Innerplan Dr, North Little Rock, Arkansas 72113-7645, US) and were discussing funerals (6-9k). I mentioned that since I will be attending his funeral (approx. 2032) that it would be impudent for him not to turn up to mine (approx. 2036). Long story short, this lead for him to swing a naughty haymaker (right) directly aiming for my jaw when I rapidly dodged and gave the cheeky cunt a swift uppercut (broken nose). He is now hospitalized (critical condition) and I am now currently evading law enforcement (on foot). My family (69f wife, 54m son, 69f wife) have been trying to contact me but I keep telling them if I ever see that punk again, I will give him a little combo (right hook, left hook, headbutt then roundhouse kick). If he is still moving I will stomp on his head until he is a little red smear on the bottom of my boot (black timberlands). I know I’m right but I feel as if I may have overreacted a tiny bit (not too much) AITA?

There's no reason to have a Dad Bod when push ups exist. I'm always finding time to crank out a few p-ups. Ahh yep, I do maybe a thousand p-ups a day and I'm a father of two. Those nerds coloring with crayons? Time to squeeze in a few p-ups. Little dorks eating mac and cheese? It's p-up time. I'm like a leathered marble statue of a really muscular guy, my muscles are so tight and rugged. Hell, I took a p-up break while typing this comment. The ladies at work, these little work ladies, love when I crank out p-ups right there in front of them and come up off the floor red faced and with a sizeable bulge in my slacks. That bulge is unrelated to the p-ups, by the way, I'm just a guy who's always one hard nipple poking through a shirt away from a full meat platter. Hell, I'd cheat on my wife with one of these little work ladies if she wasn't one of the little work ladies I work with. We bone in the bathroom. I get jacked on p-ups and then we bone in the bathroom and there's nothing my boss can do about it because my vascularity is way too intimidating. I tell him he should do some p-ups if he wants to fuck my wife. It's the only way she gets that slizz juiced and loosed. She wants to see multitudinous p-ups and she wants to see those p-ups now! Whoops! Haha, okay, looks like she's watching me type this over my shoulder. Uh oh. See ya later, nerdbags. I'm gonna p-ups myself up to a full plumper and pump that honey ham rump of my little work lady wife.

NA, AKA. "No Americans" is a Riot Games' Minor League that is often associated with very low domestic player participation (2/5). Is also ridiculed for being washed-up and it is specifically known for its obnoxious fanbase and mind-numbing throws.

So today in school, my English teacher was having us do presentation in front of our class. For my presentation, I decided to troll my entire class by making my entire slideshow about the popular game, Among Us. I started off the presentation by showing the class the picture of the Among Us imposter wearing sneakers (it's a meme on google if you want to search for it). For some reason, no one laughed at the meme. My teacher told me "this isn't what your presentation is supposed to be about." I responded by yelling "THE TEACHER IS SUS I SAW HER VENT" and then naruto running around the room. Again, no one even giggled. I assume it's because it was forst bell and everyone was tired. My teacher said "Please sit down." But I wasn't about to give up. I made a last ditch effort to make everyone laugh. I started to beatbox the Among Us theme song trap remix. I was beatboxing it so well (i had practiced it at home), i was certain that everyone would burst out in laughter. Unfortunately, not a single person laughed. Everyone was staring at me, so I said "You guys are all sussy, I'm gonna eject you". Long story short, I ended up getting a bad grade on my presentation and I got a detention. However, it was worth it because I totally got to troll my entire class.