Thread replies: 60
Thread images: 3
Thread images: 3
File: 1479426364871.jpg (32KB, 512x384px) Image search:
[Google]
32KB, 512x384px
Write something comfy
>>
File: Fall Feels.png (157KB, 1632x407px) Image search:
[Google]
157KB, 1632x407px
>>8739728
>>
Sometimes, I wish their would be a zombie apocalypse, just so I don't have to work anymore. There's nothing in my life worth living for.
>>
>>8739728
I am seated in an office, surrounded by pillows and blankets.
>>
>>8739731
Yeah, real nice. I've been dating one girl or another during the fall for the past 13 years, and let me tell you, the emptiness of life never goes away, even if you're drinking pumpkin spice lattes or cuddling or whatever this faggot wants to do.
>>
>>8739737
kek
>>
>>8739842
corn?
>>
>>8739851
Nah you're just a fag
The best times I've ever had with my exgirlfriend were during the fall and winter, fuck the summer and fuck the spring
>>
>>8740926
>fuck the summer
are you fat?
>>
Honestly, I get for a lot of you who've never experienced a sexual relationship to want to have a girlfriend, because I was the same way, but once I got one I started fucking hating her guts within like two months. It'll be that way with every woman you have. Marriage is a sham they all hate one another. Men are meant to fuck and leave desu.
>>
>>8739728
I'm sitting here staring out the window, watching the fall breeze carry dead leaves across the parking lot. The dull buzz of the heater reminds me its there when I remember to listen for it. This thin pane of glass is all that differentiates the outside and in, but I can feel the chill seeping through it. As the sun goes down, and the chill presses inward, the distinction between in and out feels less tangible. I crawl into my comforter, wrapping it around myself to press out the cold. I like the quilt pile; it reminds me of a womb, that treasury of happiness before consciousness robbed me blind.
>>
Smooth, metallic night. The sky is black and bright. Look at the sleeping world it covers. A private, silent, dark, breathing winter.
The midnight mountains hide between them massive, plunging vallies. White forests of pine hash the freezing whistle of winter wind.
The lakes, sleeping flat, magically wake. Black eyes glaring the yellow moon, crying streams of ice water into the shadowy skirts of snowy trees.
See the night stretch miles, and miles, and miles. From every direction it wraps around the fading, distant curvature.
>>
Warm nigger lust overwhelms you, causing you to black out, more or less permanently.
>>
>>8739728
Estoy sentado frente al computador en mi cuarto. Hace frío afuera pero llevo un rato aquí y la temperatura a mi alrededor me mantiene tibio. Ahora que estoy próximo a mi cumpleaños y luego de varias lecturas, caigo en cuenta que me preocupo mucho por estupideces, por situaciones y escenarios que pueden nacer de mis errores pasados. Pero aparte de que son casi imposibles de ocurrir, el peor escenario no es tan grave. Así que la mejor parte de esta reflexión es poder abrazar el hecho de que la mejor actitud ante los embates de la vida es relajarse. Reclinarse un poco hacia atrás desde el pensamiento, ver el cuadro completo de la propia vida y ver que no todo tiende hacia la peor posibilidad de todas. Que nos equivocamos pero nuestros errores no deben ser nuestra carga; deben cumplir una función formadora para nosotros. E implícitamente nos muestran que su solución es relajarse, no pensar mucho en ellas, no estresarnos y quemarnos las pestañas pensando. Lo que debe preocuparnos es lo que sí sucede, a eso debemos prestarle atención. Parafraseando a Hemingway 'Preocuparse no arregla nada'. Para finalizar, un dicho estóico 'Preocúpate únicamente de aquello que puedes cambiar, porque ante lo demás no puedes hacer nada. He aquí el secreto de la felicidad.'
Ahora ve y ocúpate, y relájate.
>>
Mmmmm marshmallows, in my mouth... thats fucking good, said Homer J Simpson as he had some marhsmallows into his mouth, from the hot chocolate cup, or "mug"; his eyes rolled back as he proceeded to just swallow an entire container of marshmallows not even needing to chew. Mmmmm marshmammlooowwws.
Meanwhile Son Goku was reclining on a mini sun made of Kamehamehas. It would be a while before the next Dusk Tournament Round, and he was glad his Team partner coul relax too. He was constantly astounded by the new Powers Homer displayed.
The third member of their team, Shadow the Hedgehog, was busy shopping for Groceries for Homer. He enjoyed simple tasks like this, that did not involve fighting. He compared a variety of prices at the shelves, deciding which products to buy. he was a very frugal hedgehog. But he could be generous with his friends
Suddenly he bumped into one of his most feared rivals... the dreaded One Punch man.
"..." said Shadow.
"..." said One Punch Man, not even noticing Shadow but Shadow doesnt know this.
"Want to start something???"
One Punch Man reached up and Shadow tensd expecting violence. But he was just getting some potato chips down which he put into his basket and continued on.
"Hmph..." said Shadow, looking annoyed.
>>
>>8741660
Goodnight tucker
>>
>>8739728
The lights of my intimate room dimmed to an artificial sunset. The heater kicked on. I felt the radiant heat envelope me like a hug from my mother when I was a small child. I felt home, I felt warm. I picked up the book that sits next to nightstand as I crawled into bed. I inhaled the aged pages deeply like they were an exotic incense, and I wandered through the neighboring world.
>>
>>8741660
Goodnight tucker
>>
>>8741660
Goodnight tucker.
>>
>>8741660
Goodnight tucker
>>
"Good morning!" sang the toaster!
"Good morning Mr. Toaster," said Mr Bimble. "I hope you made me some toast today!"
"Of course Mr. Bimble! It's not a breakfast without toast and your favorite condiment, the chocolate sauce!"
"You know me so well," said Mr. Bimble as he got up from his large bed and put on ordinary clothing. "I am proud to own such a fine piece of equipment!"
The toaster giggled. "The feeling is mutual Mr. Bimble, although with the roles reversed of course!"
Mr. Bimble walked over to the toaster and took out his toast. He noticed that the chocolate sauce was spread like he liked it, in an even coating that was applied evenly. "Nice work, toaster," he complimented.
>>
>>8739737
/thread
>>
>>8741660
Goodnight Tucker
>>
Jeremey yawned.
It was a long day for him,and one surprisingly quiet. No invading armies,no ravenous monsters,not even a querilous neighbor complaining about the Professor's strange experiments and stranger results. Just a rare lazy summer day watching the Endless River from his treehouse,and now the murmering call of sleep.
Mrs. Grimble came into his room,carrying the Everywhere Quilt. Jeremey was a Hedgehog Anthromorph,and his spines would make short work of any ordinary blanket,but Mrs. Grimble would take the shreds of the Everywhere Quilt and repair it like new each morning,adding new bits of fabric secured with strategic bartering down at the market. And each scrap came with a story from where it came. And every night the story was new. The Everywhere Quilt truely was from everywhere,and a bit of his world's history will unfold for him tonight.
Jeremey yawned again. If he could stay awake enough to hear...
>>
>>8739728
Well because this has already turned into a faggoty feels thread, let me just say that last night was the best sex I've had with my current gf. She's not great looking, but she's way cooler than me. Had a lot more sex than me. And it turns out she's into submissive stuff. This is the 2nd of my 3 sexual relationships that is more emotionally valuable than physically. This is love.
>>
Fire flickers 'neath the hearth that with my two hands I have laid; the well-won fruit of labours long. And now I sit, and peace drags into my very being.
>>
>>8742641
>that with my two hands I have laid
Cool rhythm but awkward for reading. It would be better narrated than read. +1 for using laid instead of lain.
>and peace drags into my very being.
that's fuckin shit though.
>>
>>8742651
What about,
>Solemnity settles in my bones.
Instead?
>>
>>8742610
http://vocaroo.com/i/s1eTh7Hy4duj
>>
>>8742657
Yeah that's better, but imo literal sensory descriptions are comfier than figurative language.
>>
>>8741682
http://vocaroo.com/i/s1KzNmDfObWA
>>
In the heat of the South Carolina sun, everything seemed alright with the world. Shelley was just around the corner and seeing her would be the highlight of my day– my week perhaps. I looked down at my bundle of magnolias to check for imperfections, only to realize i was clenching them so hard my fists were turning white. I was worrying to much again,
"Relax, relax, relax, relax, re-"
"Relax what?"
Shelley, with an amused smile, appeared behind the courtyard gate and gracefully slipped passed it– stopping right next to my bench and blocking out the harsh sun. I just wanted to stare at her face the whole day, but then I remembered I had a date planned.
"Nothing! You look beautiful." I handed her the flowers and she thanked me profusely. Stunned, I noticed something in her disposition that had never been there-- shyness. She blushed and rushed to push back a golden strand of her already perfectly-did hair. I wanted to laugh, I thought I was the bashful one.
"Shall we eat?" I asked, taking her soft, freckled arm. We somewhat stiffly walked across the steeet. The following silence was broke by a screeching silver Cadillac approaching us swiftly, I panicked. Just as the car was going to miss us, Shelley shoved me at the windshield with what I thought were loving arms, and walked off. "See you in hell, cunt," she called back to me without even looking over her shoulder.
I am writing this from hell as I wait for Shelley to meet me. She said she would meet me here. I look down at what I scrambled together in absence of flowers; a stately specimen of charred bones. I'm so nervous, I hope she'll like them.
"Relax, relax, relax, relax, relax.. "
>>
Virdent meadow soft
A living sea beneath the sky
Even the stones rest
>>
>>8742702
Cute.
>>
There is nothing quite like the familiar hiss and sputtering that accompanies the oil lantern in my office. The dancing light of the newly born flame just barely fails to illuminate my study which; truth being told, might be a bit of an ambitous label for the drab quarters i find myself sequestered in. For a moment I find my gaze drawn to the rather dusty bookshelf in the corner. Resting upon the top shelf lie some of my favorite tomes- bound in leather, but falling apart due to years of gentle yet persistent use. Mixed in with these are some lengthy books suggested by my former coworkers. I swore to myself I would read them one day.
I then look out the window to a moonlit cobblestone street, filled with cramped buildings obviously designed by someone as skilled at architecture as I was literature. Every now and then id hear a horse slowly trot down the way, or some faint drunken arguing. Hopefully it was nothing too serious, although i was dubious at the sincenrity of my concern. However, amidst all these clanging sounds and claustrophobic visions there was the tiniest of gaps; a patch of deep blue sky That stood out against the dark relief. If i looked closely enough i could almost see the house on the hill where she lived.. almost.
With a resignated sigh, i return my eye to the sheaf of papers sitting on my desk. Half formed novel ideas littered with arcane scribblings in the margins. I look thoughtfully at one such note and go to pick up my pen. Before my fingers even arrive, i find their flight veering instead for the bottle of scotch on my desk. I pick it up and give it a shake: empty. it was going to be a long night.
>>
"something comfy"
[an outburst of mixed guffaws and cheers, and general commotion. But gradually a rumble of discontent becomes apparent, builds, and overtakes the laughter. Then sounds of a riot. Windows break. Cars screech to a halt. Chandeliers explode into fireballs and come crashing down. Infants and small animals are spat out of the enormous conflagration of throngs, falling into the giant abysses formed by explosives of various megatonnage. Bacchantes enter in bloodstained garb to perform sparagmos on the offending one while alternately shrieking hysterically and chanting "something comfy." Four-armed Kali enters the fray, bringing various instruments of war and laughing boisterously. The very Titans break their adamantine manacles and reengage in war upon the Olympians at the very spot where those death-giving words, "something comfy," were given. At the moment of utmost fury enters Christ on a trail of clouds, who with a word and gesture of peace levels all creation into ashes, each of these being stripped of their vanities and made utterly equal in their incorporeal state.]
And said Christ: "Who is it hath caused this great devastation? What was the word that so hath moved all to madness, that I should needs silence it at last?"
And said I again in trembling voice: "Something comfy."
>>
>>8742702
God save me from marrying a feminist. From touching a feminist. Looking at a feminist. Having relations with a feminist woman, getting to know one. Being acquainted, intimately or not, with a feminist. From having a female friend who happens to be a feminist. From having a female friend.
I walk along the path to the front door of the house with a bundle of flowers clasped tightly in my hand, nervous and huge, forced grin plastered on my face. My hair is swept to the side, I hope casually. Now let's hope Johnny didn't set me up with a blind date with his cousin as a joke. As I ring the bell and wait there on the porch for the door to open, what I am thinking is, "Please God don't let her be a feminist, or at least not a militant one. Not another one of those."
I am aware what it is like when women knowingly and contemptuously speak of men in some comical fashion and other women around them nod and laugh and agree knowingly and contemptuously: I know. I am a seasoned veteran of feminists in real life and on obscure online forums. So I therefore know how much of a chauvinistic unlikable bum I must sound like to any woman. Simply because I do not like feminists. But really, is it such a sin? They all have anger issues, they usually identified too much with their fathers as a child causing them to take on an overly masculine role, can you blame me that I do not want to be acquainted with those creatures---
The door opens. I unconsciously slightly tweak the camellia in my chest pocket of the tux I am wearing, still smiling nervously and hugely, with my left hand in the split second while I see but do not yet fathom the huge woman named Bertha who happens to be my friend John's cousin right before me: she is a four- or seven-hundred pound monstrosity before me, simian brow and mole above the lips, very huge and hairy and hideous and distracting mole.
Her breasts are quite large.
In that split second, my left eye first begins to twitch with its habitual tic nerveux. It does this periodically, every eleven seconds from then on. Sweat begins to bead on my forehead and to roll down the sides of my head. I begin to tremble in barely concealed agony and embarrassment. I must kill John for this, I have to remember to do that.
"H-hi," I say, neck actually now twitching so that I lower my head sideways, uncontrollably, to bounce it off my left shoulder back to an upright position. I am wincing, grimacing. "H-h-how arrr... ???!!!... yoooo!!!" I am afraid I am having an epileptic seizure now.
Unsure what to do, I punch the surprised cow in the face and run away awkwardly, my black dress pants not very suitable for the occasion. Then I think: I did not hit her hard enough, I must go back. I go back, the door is still open and she is on the ground crying, weeping hysterically, holding her face, bawling her heart out. And I ... I could not do it.
>>
>>8741682
(Another comfy scene from my epic crossover battle fanfic, The Ultimate Tournament of the Dusk, which currently sits at 385,000 words)
In another Hotel Room (they're all staying in the Rafflesia-Galbadia Hotel from Final Fantasy which has reinforced concrete walls now to prevent pre-fighting) the so-called Patrician Crew planned for the morrow. Tyrone Slothrop lurched out of his chair, driven by a compulsive need to masturbate. "Will be a minute," he said, stumbling towards the bathroom.
"Take as long as you need," said Humbert Humbert with a smile that did not reach his eyes. All he could think about was the utopia on earth he would enact upon gaining the power of the God Balls. His precious Lo-chan (he had of recently become interested in Animes, his favorite being Hachimitsu to Kuroubaa) would gambol in his arms forever, unaging and perfect and obedient. Oh yes.
"What I wish to know, Mr H," Maximillion Pegasus continued, "is whether or not we can outfox that dastardly Sly Cooper come the morrow."
"With Mr. Slothrop's ability to spontaneously generate authentic V2 rockets from the quantum vacuum - a result of some arduous training which I believe he is undergoing at this very moment - even the slyest of coopers will, I pray say, have not a chance against our forces. Of course a lone Slothrop would not fare well even with the might of God Himself, but with you and perhaps even I at his back, there is little we are unable to achieve."
"Yes. My modified Duel Hologram Ultra Technology will protect us from the blasts," mused Pegasus, sipping some wine and diverting his attention to the television, which had just started a late night rerun of the morning's cartoons. Of course, he'd seen them all long before they'd even aired, but every rewatch deepened his pleasure. This was called savoring, a pastime of gentlemen. It is why even centuries-old immortals continued listening to Bach and/or Beethoven: it did not get old. Just like them.
Slothrop tried to focus on the mangas Pegasus had brought, but his head was cloudy from the alcohol. "Goddamn it, Mai, stay... stay still..." he slurred, dropping the comic into the toilet and rooting around for it for nineteen consecutive seconds before accidentally flushing it and almost the top part of his arm. "Fuck it, oh... fuck it," he mumbled up on top of the toilet seet his arms very tired as his eyes were. Sound of water rushing in his ears. His head was pounding. Why oh why did he have to have all that expensive brandy. He lost consciousness, but fortunately had an unprintable erotic dream.
>>
>>8742771
Mickey reclined on the expensive chair. He twirled his weapon in his hands, watching with icy, passionless eyes the argument of his team-mates.
"Why should I have to sleep on the floor?" growled "Dirty" Harry, shoving Gary Oak ever so slightly.
"A dirt-poor redneck like you won't even know the difference," sneered an undaunted Gary. "You're not even worth the carpet bitch."
"Why I oughta--"
Suddenly Mickey's keyblade shot between them and embedded itself in the wall. "Your bickering irritates the mouse," he said, his voice betraying no irritation whatsoever. "Fight for the bed. He who forfeits or loses consciousness is the loser."
Gary glanced at Mickey. "Hmph. Whatever. Umbreon, take care of this dog!"
Dirty Harry readied his revolvers, grinning irritatedly. Some classical music played in the background. (Mozart, String Quartet No. 17)
A little later, Gary sulked on the floor while Dirty Harry smirked on the bed. He hadn't expected him to be such a quick shot, and in the end he had not felt lucky. "Damn you," he muttered. "This isn't the last from me bitch."
The classical music continued, and the humans in the room drifted off to sleep, a variety of fragrances helping them along into the land of pleasant dreams.'Maybe that Harry isn't so bad after all,' thought Gary as he floated away. 'I do respect battle ability...'
An owl hooted outside at this poignant remark; perhaps soon these two would look past their differences and become fast friends. Find out next time on...
>>
>>8739728
John awoke on a cold winter morning-the snap had just snapped. The landlord was a day late, but now the radiator was bubbling. All right then.
Ah, no work. I did not have to report to a particular location at a particular time on this particular day, John rejoiced.
John did as he pleased for the day, going for a joyride later.
>>
idk she was looking at the site's stats and scrolling up and down. she was looking at the numbers but not getting much out of them, she was kind of doing it out of inertia. her eyes were heavy. the sun was setting and shining a dark orange she has seen very few times in her life. she could see most of the city through her window. the way she was spread on her bed allowed her to be half laying stomach down and half propped up on her desk yet she couldn't maintain this position for more than a few minutes when her left arm holding her head began to tire. it had been for the most part a cloudy day but the air felt lukewarm on exposed skin. her room was lighted only by the fading sun and the screen glow. she had on a tshirt and panties. and socks. she thought calling a friend but decided against it. she lighted up a cigarette. left it three quarters of the way on the ashtray. she tried to read. couldn't get past some three pages. it was joyce. she took off her glasses, for the day she told herself, rubbed her eyes. she turned on the tv, defeated. there were soaps on, sports, movies. she stopped on what seemed to be a movie but wasn't sure, the channel didn't have a logo. it showed a static shot of road, surrounded by swaying trees, not a sign on sight. the music in the movie, or whatever it was, was soft and slow, from which seemed to be strings, but she wasn't sure. beside those she could hear a trembling, faint, constant sound, kind of like whistling, but from a nonhuman source. the movie abruptly cut to the middle of a woods. no people had appeared yet. the movie now showed a derelict cabin, broken glasses, few pieces of furniture. she remembered she had put a joint away for this exact type of moment. she lighted that up and when it had already hit her the movie now showed an empty city. the music had now gotten frenetic and intense. she fell asleep, joint half smoked, tv turned on, and window left open.
>>
>>8742912
this is pretty amatuer. way too many sentences start out with she this. she that. half of your sentences are long run ons. the other half are short and choppy - she tried to read. it was joyce. and socks. im not sure if youre trying to develop a style but its not working, the flow is just awkward and awful to read. if i were you i would take a break from writing for a while and read like.. a LOT of books
>>
>>
>>8741660
Goodnight tucker
>>
there was snow while i was watching it through the glass under my blanket fall.
>>
>>8740986
Is this a new le meme?????
>>
>>8741013
This is very /comfy/ desu
>>
>>8741660
Goodnight tucker
>>
>>8742252
sleep tight toaster
>>
>>8742677
Can you give an example?
>>
>>8741660
Goodnight tucker, you cunt
>>
>>8739731
>Oktoberfest
>comfy
haha this guy has some real screwed up ideas of what normal people do to have fun
>>
Bacon sizzled on the skillet, letting grease spill from its pores as if it were its duty. The helpful bacon must have known that after it the eggs would be fried there, or else it would not have been so ready to grease the pan for me. I sighed, spatula in hand as I cradled each strip into a warm bed of paper towels and paper plates. The autumn sun was beginning to show his gentle face, and all of 8th street was orange from the drowsy leaves still lying with each other on the ground.
I could see the Asian lady across the street coming home from opening up her restaurant a few miles away, her daughter was kicking trash down the street a couple of months ago. Nobody in the neighborhood particularly liked them, but they also didn't care enough to really do anything about it.
I cracked the eggs and began to see them sizzle and bubble, flipping them over when the time was right. As attractive as sunny side up eggs may seem, the risk was always too great for the hypochondriac that I was. I shook a bit of salt down on the eggs, soon giving them a home on some of the nicer plates that I had. These were the plates that had vines and flowers all around the border, decorated by little scratches in the porcelain from clumsy forks and knives. I still liked to use them, though, since I felt they had a nice morning character that other things lacked.
Bacon soon joined the eggs, and toast warmed to hardness before being softened by butter was also made neighbor in the meal. Usually there'd be hash browns too, but I didn't have any right now, and I didn't want to go to the store so early in the morning.
>>
He sipped. Vapor graces the nose. Fingerprints seizing the ceramic like a wistful embrace from behind. Coffee pools in lovely, heavy waves within the shitposters belly
>>
The only person that will complete you is yourself.
The only person that will give you happiness is yourself.
Love yourself.
>>
>>8741645
Ahh..
>>
>>8741660
goodnight tucker
>>
>>8739728
I realized waking up on a red leather couch wasn't so bad after all.
>>
With a blizzard raging on, Anon sipped away at his hot chocolate as he sat comfortably in the embrace of a thick and soft blanket beside the fireplace.
Thread posts: 60
Thread images: 3
Thread images: 3