/lit/ - Literature

>>21239914
what do you think of my Motivation Reaction Units here:

Groans escaped from both her ends as air pockets caught between the turds and her rectum walls released with a bassy roll of wet pops. From where the young man leaned over her could see the ring of light brown wrinkles spread open, and the dark face of the first serpent peek into creation. The body that followed was so much larger than it's nose made it seem. Her circlet clung to it as it passed, as if desperately trying to apprehend the newborn before it could escape, and a projecting sphincter interrupted the once smooth valley between the oracle's spread butt cheeks. She gasped and shuddered against the young man's legs. Though at first the procession was snailishly slow, the ropey length gathered speed until its tail finally threw itself onto the grass behind her, tangling into the rest of its coiled body. Her anus began settling back into place, as dough might, but stopped to shudder at a machine gun burst of flatulence, whose depressive pitch made it sound embarrassed to be there. Without delay, another girthy line of brown paste followed like custard from a machine. Somewhere along it's middle, she contracted her nethers, severing the soft turd in half and squeezing feces into the cleft of her bottom. What had already escaped fell limp beside it's older kin, and in a moment it was joined by the rest of itself with a moist thud. Bitter steam billowed from her leavings. The young man crinkled his nose, while she began catching her breath.
"Are you finished?" the young man said.
"Yes," she said, in her low, scratchy voice.
"Then face the tree and turn your butt towards me."
Still squatting, she rotated until she could rest her cuffed hands against the birch. The young man, kneeling now, found himself staring into the dilations of a reeking black star. He ripped off a sheet of toilet paper, bunched it between his fingers and drew it across the filthy corona, stretching her sphincter and gathering brown sludge beneath the tissue. Thoroughly used, the paper was thrown in with the rest of the refuse and another, clean piece was torn from the roll.
She looked over her shoulder at him, grinning, "have you ever wondered how it tastes?"
"Be quiet," he said, and began wiping again.
"You could just lean in and have a lick and no one would know. I certainly wouldn't tell anybody."
"I said shut up."
"Look, here," she said, "I'll make you something fresh."
She tensed up and began to groan again. He was wiping the inside of her butt cheeks when he saw her rim bunch and erupt with one small, dark turd, right next to his foreknuckles. It slid out, barely missing the young man who had kicked himself up and away from the squatting priestess and now watched as her gift slapped against the ground where he had just been kneeling.
"You're disgusting!"
She laughed and raised her swaying hindquarters at him.
"What are you waiting for imperial?" she called to him, "clean it up!"

aince you're spamming I'll repeat myself:

Only in the sense that they're usually only morally ambiguous compared to a saturday morning cartoon hero or villain.
anti-hero also changes definition depending on the context. An anti-hero in the classical era was essentially just an ordinary guy, but now that's the norm. In modern pop media it's somebody whose crawling in his skin, with wounds that will not heal. Frankly, given how common edgelords are nowadays, antiheroes should be the opposite of that, a driven and highly moral knight of faith.