Som lliures i alhora seguim un guió//We are free and at the same time we follow a script//Somos libres y al mismo tiempo seguimos un guión
Quan passa quelcom inesperat se sol dir que és la voluntat de Déu, però no hauríem de pensar així, perquè aquesta forma de pensar ens fa vulnerables i poc responsables; no assumim que som els factòtums dels nostres actes.
PUNT: El Pare, Déu, no s’asseuría a castigar-vos. Aquest és un drama automàtic predestinat que continua.
Hi han dos factors encadenats: el drama o l’anomenat univers, i, el…
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sry for quality i cant find a way to export things nicely from freeform but here's a leafpool phone doodle from the plane :-P (anatomy is Jankaayyyy but i can only do so much man i have an iphone 12 mini my finger takes up half the screen)
"If it's meant to be then it will be (oh, oh)
So I met him there and told him I believe (oh, oh)
Singing, "If it's meant to be then it will be" (it'll be)
I forgive it all as it comes back to me (back to me, oh)"
Sun Bleached Flies by ethel cain. SOOO leafpool do you ever think about leafpool my friend leafpool
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need someone to inspect me. need someone to pull down my little white panties and laugh at how soaked they are after a night of sleep. “oh baby! i didn’t even touch you. what on earth were you dreaming about?” need someone to grope me and tell me they’re “just checking to make sure everything is still working” and when i whine and squirm against their hands they shush me and say “that’s good, that’s good little one. that means it’s working. now stay quiet for me.” i want my folds to be pulled apart and rubbed and licked. i want my clit to be clinically examined, pinched and prodded until i’m begging for a break. need someone to rub around the outside of both of my holes and make notes to themself about how tense i am, how much im clenching, etc. i desperately need someone to stick a finger in me and gasp at how tight i am “darling, it’s like i never broke you in at all! you’re gonna need to relax for me if you want to pass this exam.” they fuck me with a finger till i’m absolutely drooling. “we’ve got a ways to go, but you’re doing so well for me sweet thing. doing so well for daddy. now i’m going to restrain you now—no, no darling, none of that. i don’t want to hear any complaints. this is good for you. it’s good to be tied up for me. you can’t be able to move for this next part.” need somebody to slowly work a huge dildo into my cunt, the biggest i’ve ever taken, it’s heavy and thick and i can see it in my stomach. i’m whimpering but they just keep whispering “i knew you could do it, look how good my little wet hole is doing. absolutely made for this, i told you. so proud of my little plaything.” oh god it aches so much, im throbbing and moaning, but i wanna be good for them and i wanna do well on my inspection… i deserve to be inspected every day
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One of my earlier jobs in life was at a little pizza place. I worked there when it was first starting up. It’s the only job I’ve ever been fired from and it was because a new manager came in and cleaned house. Because my state requires a reason to be fired he said I used too much pepperoni. So now on job applications I get to write that I was fired for “excessive use of pepperoni.” Never fails to get a laugh.
Anyway! For this story to make sense I’ve first got to set the stage. This pizza place started out as the Wild West of management but one of the original investors was super committed to work programs through the prison. We hired a ton of ex convicts and they were all, to a one, super hyped on Christianity. Like born again for the sole purpose of lauding Christ with their every breath.
I hadn’t been working there long but I’d definitely noticed the Jesus bug had gone around, and as I’ve never been religious at all I tried to steer clear of the topic for my own safety.
The day our story takes place, I was folding boxes. Anyone whose ever worked pizza can attest, there’s so much box folding. It’s something that happens at every lull, the pizza machine demands box folding on a grand and epic scale.
On my right folding his stack of boxes was a guy wider than he was tall, made of pure muscle, Corey. He was newer on staff, and due to a stutter he didn’t talk much. All I knew about him was that he got hired through the rehabilitation program and had done time.
On my left folding was a tall middle-aged woman who loved to yell at me, Cindy. She and I rubbed each other the wrong way and had nothing in common, leading to a tense working relationship.
We folded boxes in silence. This was really my best case scenario as a quiet Cindy was a Cindy not riding my ass, and Corey intimidated me.
But the weight of the silence grew too much for Cindy, who finally said, “I really want to go to bible school.”
I folded a box. I had less than no idea what bible school even was and I didn’t want to get sucked into a religious topic.
On my right Corey said, “W-why, Cindy?”
“Well, cause I believe what’s in the Bible, but I just don’t know it all.”
He nodded sagely to this.
Cindy continued, “And every time I sit down to read the Bible I get real sleepy. And I know it’s the devil.”
It’s so hard to convey her tone in written format. It was delivered with the emphasis and exasperation of an inevitable inconvenience. Like, I just know it’s the squirrels eating the bird seed.
I froze in place at this pronouncement. My only exposure to Lucifer was Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comics and I was trying to mentally twist into a frame of mind where The Morningstar cared enough about this one middle aged lady expanding her knowledge of the Bible that he followed her around cursing her with sleepiness when she picked it up.
I think I expected Corey to say, “Well that’s silly,” or something to acknowledge what a bizarre thing Cindy had just said.
Instead he said, “Yeah!” In a tone of complete agreement.
I didn’t look up. I tried to keep my face neutral at this development.
But something must have shown. Corey said, “You don’t believe in God?”
I shrugged casually and said, “If I did I wouldn’t talk about it at work.”
“C-cause it’s t-true. If y-you t-ry to r-read the B-bible on unsanctif-fied gr-round the d-devil m-makes you s-sleepy!”
I made a noncommittal sound and fled into the back room.
Over the next week it drove me crazy though. The logic of it wouldn’t leave me alone so finally one day when it was just Corey and I in front, and the restaurant was empty, I said, “Hey man, I have a question.”
He shrugged and listened.
“I really don’t mean this with any disrespect, I just genuinely want to know about the logistics-“
“J-ust ask.”
“Okay, so if Cindy gets tired when she reads any book, is it only the devil making her tired when it’s the Bible?”
His face went purple with fury and he yelled, “F-fuck you!” at my retreating back as I fled once more into the back room.
It will forever remain a mystery.
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