#and if you don't get good grades well fuck you you're a dumb piece of shit

[frangusmadgator]

twins in paradise was certainly a thing i watched!

#my gf told me to watch it and Uh Oh! it hits hard for me #ok so you know when you're like really good for a few grades #so your family sees you as Albert fucking Einstein #and expects you to be Albert fucking Einstein at all times #even though albert einstein wasn't even constantly coming up with bangers like e = m*2 #and eventually you get burnt out because everyone just sees you as a smart kid who always gets the best grades #and if you don't get good grades well fuck you you're a dumb piece of shit #idk something about marcy and darcy feels like they're one of those #i think people those kinds of kids Gifted Kids #wouldn't know tho everyone just likes to tell me i'm really fucking smart until they decide that i'm actually braindead #hrgh

[nsmhrniki]

✰ pip w/ a violent but soft s/o！,,

WARNINGS: curse words, harsh words

PAIRING/S: phillip "pip" pirrip x reader [ platonic // romantic ]

PRONOUNS: no pronouns mentioned!!

GENRE: fluff, more of crack though 😭

REQUESTED: yes // no

" do you still take requests? if so, can we get a phillip x reader where the reader ALWAYS defends him? for example in the dodgeball episode where he's happy about winning against the asians and tge gang says "shut up pip!" the reader just yells "YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU FUCKING R3T4RD5!!" then immediately goes soft on him and says "don't listen to them. you did a great job" or when kyle insults him she goes "ah shut up you chr!st k!ll3r"

and also the reader has been known to beat ppl up in younger grades "

– @kenjithesquidiot

A/N: LMAOOAOOA I LOVE THIS i had to rewatch the episode to make sure i got the dialogue right 👍👍

poor, poor, boy. pip is always mistreatened. incredibly nice and awkward, people took advantage of that and took him as "weak" and "pathetic." you, on the other hand, oh no of course you wouldn't take that.

so during pip's first dodgeball game, when kyle went "come on, don't be a wuss! are you just gonna be a french pansy your whole life?!"

"i'm not fr- 😟" "THROW THE BALL YOU STUPID FROG. Goddamn if you didn't eat all those croissants you wouldn-"

he fell over with a yell and the others turn to see you angrily hovering over him–and they ALREADY knew that it was you who threw the ball. later chef walks by,

"o-okay that was pretty good, y/n 😃. but you're supposed to hit the kids on the other team,,"

"ow my nose–you broke my nose!!" kyle's whining breaks through

"SHUSH, i should rip your hair off so you won't have to wear that dumb h-"

"okay, okay kids thats enough 😧 that nose is bleeding pretty bad kyle, i think you might have to go to the nurse's office"

"N-NO ILL BE FINE AHA 😍"–panicked about going to the nurse. kyle had it coming as he was dragged outside by chef

glaring at the others as a warning, they step back. your stare however, turns into a softer expression as if nothing had happened as you turn to pip, comforting him in the process

during the actual game, chef peptalked pip, telling him to throw the ball at the other team. "yeah, and if you don't, you're a big dumbass european peice of crap!#*×*" "get him frenchy-" cartman and kyle both halt the second they notice your glaring daggers at them.

you didnt even notice the little guy won!!

however.,, oh god the national finals. players on your side, one by one DOWN. from clyde, to kyle, to cartman, to kenny, to YOU,,, now it was only pip left.

luckily, kevin caught up on an idea, and wrote it down on a piece of paper BUT not before asking for your permission. you were hesitant, but you eventually agreed. you knew it would help

so you watched him walk over to the opposite team and whisper to one of them, whilst handing the paper. he walked away and did what kevin told him

"thanks you american DUMBASS. YOU FRENCH PIECE OF CRAP, THROW THE BALL. Whats the matter, frenchy?!?! you got crepes in your ears??"

well would you look at that?? pip won. still the others told him to shut up when he celebrated but you ended up smashing each of their faces with the ball 😍

nevertheless, the others are still scared to the core when it comes to you, and them having to trashtalk pip to "motivate" him.

however, pip claims its always been you that pushed him up whenever he needs it:))

on a side note, hes INCREDIBLY smitten over you. he appreciates how you always defend him–although you do scare him too sometimes,,

so he often has to hold you back from beating up the others LMAO

fortunately, the others have minimized their picking on pip to a low (if you're not there, that is) you still manage to find out anyway, and they'll get what they deserve

㊎ all rights reserved to @/nsmhrniki. please do not copy/repost

Reblogs are appreciated !

#south park x reader #pip x reader #pip pirrip x reader #nsmhrniki ;; south park #nsmhrniki

[basketcaseeeeee]

The Anniversary Effect. Chapter 2: The car ride.

Warnings: SH, emotional abuse, cheating, mentions of blood, suicide, scaring, trauma, ptsd, angst. So much angst. I think that's it. If there's anymore, please let me know!

Summary: you and your boyfriends relationship was falling apart. One mistaken night, you slept with of his best friends of 10 years. Trying to work through this, your friend group threw a party to try to get back everything back to "normal." Brush everything under the rug. That night, that rug got pulled right from under you. You felt something was coming. Floating around in the background. The uneasiness, growing anxiety. They say the body knows before the mind. You felt something was coming. Floating around in the background. The uneasiness, growing anxiety. They say the body knows before the mind.

You barely slipped into the passenger seat before your boyfriend, Jerrin, was already speeding out of the parking lot. Making your door slam shut in the process. Here we go you think to yourself. He's gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. You know what's coming. The beratement, name calling, the yelling.

"You're a fucking piece of work you know that? The one thing I told you to do, the one thing that everyone told you to do, and you couldn't even do that! How fucking hard is it to follow one simple direction given straight to you huh?! Are you that fucking stupid?! I told you to stay the fuck away from! Are you that dumb of a bitch? Fucking answer me!" Holding back your tears, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, again. You choose anger instead of sadness this time to reply. " Fuck you! I didn't tell him to come outside! I hadn't spoken to him all night until that moment, Jerrin! I was outside alone until he stepped out to smoke. This isn't my fault!" "It's never your fault is it?! Shit just happens around you, right? Everyone else is to blame for poor ol you and your misfortune. You just have bad luck, right? Cursed or whatever? Did you ever think that you're the problem?! Anything bad happens, you're always somewhere involved. Your dad was right. You destroy everything you touch. Anything that happens to cross paths with you, you fuck up and destroy!" "HEY! Stop that shit right now!" Eddie yells from the backseat. "I know you're pissed man, but don't bring her dad into it. You and I both know that's a low blow." Jerrin just scoffs "fine, I'll leave that alone but otherwise, you stay out of this if you know what's good for you."

Eddie knew all about your dad, so did Jerrin. He was emotionally abusive. Always calling you names. Nothing you did was ever good enough for him. Both parents always compared you to your siblings. Being the middle child wasn't easy. They never noticed you unless you fucked up somehow. Made a mess of things. And when they did take notice of a accomplishment you achieved, it was always why can't you smart enough like so and so? Why can't you be as athletic, driven, or talented? You never felt good enough and Eddie knew this. He'd been there for you through it all. Him being your best friend since the 3rd grade, saw how your parents treated you. How your home life was messy. His was too. You only had each other to lean on, for comfort, for any sort of resemblance of stability, safety. You were each others lifeline and you made sure to stay that way well into adulthood. Sticking by each other no matter what. Full on honesty, no matter how hard it was to tell each other. That was the number one rule between you. Of course you didn't always agree with the others life choices. The occasional arguments would ensue due to your honesty policy with each other but you'd always appreciate it in the end. Honestly, it annoyed people how close you were, especially when it came to dating, but you didn't care. He was your family, the only family you ever needed, even if there was no blood relation.

"Don't you threaten him." Your tone low surprises everyone in the car, including yourself. Letting out a crazed cackle Jerrin turns to you "I should have known. It was always there, right in my goddamn face the whole time." Rolling your eyes "known what?" You huff already suspecting what he was getting at. "You're fucking him too, huh?" Now letting out your own laughter, pinching your forehead taking a deep breath before replying "you're fucking kidding me right? I'm such a slut now that im fucking everyone? It that it is? You can't seriously..." He cuts you off by slamming him hand against the dashboard "DON'T FUCKING LIE TO ME! I know exactly how you are and yes, you are a slut. A fucking whore, actually. That why you insisted on Eddie living with us? Just couldn't be with out his dick huh? And when you couldn't get his or want mine, you fucked one of my oldest friends Sean huh? Is that it? I bet he's fucked you real good didn't he?" "Shut the fuck up man!" Eddie interjects. Jerrin just laughs as he turns to you. Tears begging to fall, he cups your chin to look at him faking his sincerity with the gesture. "Think your fuck buddy is getting angry back there. Oh, you gonna cry now? God, you so fucking pathetic sometimes." Shoving his hand away "fuck you, Jerrin! The only one who's pathetic here is you. You goddamn piece of shit! Just leave me alone." He just laughs again. As if any of this is humorous. The rest of the ride home is silent. Finally pulling up to your apartment, you practically jump out of the car bolting through your front door to your room. You know, it's only going to get worse from here.

@i-me-mine

#stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #angst #sad

[4awny]

Cartman finds out he has a mental illness

I think it’s a character-forming idea for Cartman, who is aware that something isn’t right with himself, but doesn’t quite understand it and is therefore in denial about it. For his friends, they’ve always known Cartman as a bit crazy, but not really realizing it themselves either. It’s a strong head canon of mine and ngl I enjoyed writing it lol

Enjoy this as a stand alone piece taken from my fic that’s probably way too long by now LOL

//

Cartman's eyes flashed away when Kenny mentioned that last part. His version of things were very different and so he took it personally. "Why are you making out like I'm some kind of unpredictable sociopath?"

The answer was obvious. "Because you are an unpredictable sociopath." Said Kenny.

"Unpredictable? Okay, I'll take that. That's actually a good quality to have, but a sociopath?" He strongly denied the accusation. "Do you even know what that is?"

Kenny had an idea, but he wasn't 100% certain on what all of the characteristics were. "Sure, let's take a look right now, shall we?" He fished through several pockets until he found his phone.

"This is so dumb." Kyle chimed in, but actually, was just pleased that he wasn't the one on the other end of the feud for a change.

"Is my.... friend... a socio...path... annd... enter." Kenny spoke slowly as he tapped furiously at the screen until he found what he was looking for. "Oh, look! Ten signs you may be dealing with a sociopath, perfect."

Cartman's eyes dulled to the side as he immediately lost interest. "Oh, boy. Go ahead, let's hear it."

"Okay, so what's the difference between a sociopath and a psychopath? A sociopath is blah blah blah... with limited empathy and yadda yadda yadda." His eyes darted across the screen, skipping over the unimportant bits of the article and finding the juicy parts to favour his argument. "Here we go, number one: Manipulative tendencies. Yup." He nodded, agreeing with the blog. "You're always lying and manipulating shit so that it works in your favour. Like how you somehow persuaded Dr Willis to change your grade on that chemistry paper? I don't even understand how you managed to do that? Like, that ain't normal behaviour."

The explanation was simple. "Being persuasive doesn't make me a sociopath."

"Persuasive?!" Kenny laughed at the word like it was an understatement. "No way, dude. That was straight up witchcraft. I forgot to bring in my homework once and she gave me a week's worth of detention. A week! And there's you asking her to change your grade? What did you do - blackmail her?"

"I didn't blackmail anyone." Cartman assured with a calm demeanour. "For some reason she likes me, so I took advantage. You guys seem to think I'd go to extreme lengths just to get my grade changed, when all I did was ask. She misunderstood one of my answers, so I got it changed and that determined whether I was an A grade student or not."

He looked as if he was telling the truth, but Kyle couldn't believe how it was possible for the brunette to get an A, seeing as it wasn't a subject that he particularly liked. Kyle did absolute garbage in that paper, only scraping a B himself, so in his head, it wasn't fair and therefore not credible. One would argue that Kyle wasn't prepared at all for that paper, considering he was in hospital.

Kenny couldn't believe it either. "There is no way you got an A in that."

"Well I fucking did? Nothing manipulative about it at all."

"But wait, didn't you just say for some reason she likes you and that you took advantage? Did he say that, Kyle? Because that sounds pretty manipulative to me. He said that, right?" He looked to Kyle for confirmation.

"You did say that, yeah." Kyle shrugged apologetically, but he wasn't apologetic at all. Regardless of Cartman's story, they both knew that getting that grade change was not as simple as asking.

"What you don't ask, you don't get. That's what my mom always taught me." Cartman concluded.

Kenny wasn't convinced and it was safe to say, neither was Kyle. "See? Right there, that's exactly what I'm talking about." Kenny pointed a finger at him and then moved onto the next one before he could get a response. "Number two: Easily angered or irritated." He scrolled down to read out the description. "Anger is one of the most easiest emotions for sociopaths and it's one that shows up frequently in their relationships, work and daily life. Er, easily angered? Yep, also easily irritated. Uh, prone to yelling or having aggressive outbursts when upset." He looked up from his phone to see that evil glare striking towards him. "Definitely not you, right?"

"Look, there's a difference between being an angry guy and having a short temper." He quipped back. He wasn't liking this personality analysis, nor did he agree with it.

"I totally agree. Someone like...? Like Kyle, for example. Now that's someone with a short temper." He gestured a hand at Kyle, but spoke about him as if he wasn't there. "But you? You're just an angry guy."

"Hey, I don't have a short temper." Kyle clarified.

Cartman needed to emphasise his point, but contradicted himself when his fist clenched into a ball. "And I'm not angry."

"Number three-" Said Kenny loudly, trying to move on as quickly as possible. They still had a lot of points to cover. "Devious or deceptive tendencies. Often caught telling lies, exaggerating, distorting facts and misrepresenting the truth in order to get what they want... okay, that is literally you all over. Like, no kidding."

Cartman was quick to retaliate. "I don't fucking lie and I don't goddamn exaggerate!" When he turned to look at Kyle for conformation, he was annoyed to see an unconvinced expression. "And what is that look supposed to mean?"

Kyle shrugged. "I mean... you do a little bit. A lot, actually."

"Shut up, no I don't?" It was now he, who was starting to raise his voice. "You guys just don't understand how to tell a good story. And another thing, don't you think this is completely retarded? Okay, so I might get a little angry sometimes, so what? Like, I just think differently. Does that make me smarter than you guys? Possibly, I don't know, I don't make the rules. But does it make me a fucking sociopath? No, of course it doesn't. Having a high IQ, like myself, does not equal to a mental illness, you fucking idiots." He slammed the laptop shut as he finished his argument. Most of it was exaggerated and Kenny wasn't sure if Cartman was being serious. The only thing he knew, was that Cartman was not liking this topic of conversation.

Despite that, Kenny was happy to continue. "Er... which leads me to my next point. Number four: Superficial charm and powers of persuasion." He looked over at Kyle for an answer this time.

"I mean, I can't exactly see charm?" His eyes met with Cartman's for a brief moment and he tore them away quickly. "But he is pretty persuasive. I hate to say it, but it's... yeah, it's true."

This somehow changed things, because Kyle just complimented him, at least he thought it was a compliment, and he wasn't entirely sure how to take that. "Uh, right? Like many great leaders are?"

"Hunger for power and dominance is number five, dude." Kenny blurted out. "Er, says here they have a tendency to be power hungry and may spend a lot of time and effort attaining positions where they can control, dominate, and have authority... over others." He stared at the screen and had flashbacks of Cartman's behaviour over the years. "Yeah, uhm? Sorry to break it to you, man? But you're a sociopath."

A fist slammed against the desk. "Shut your fucking mouth, Kenny!"

"Kenny, stop." Said Kyle, who thought their voices were getting far too loud and people were actually starting to turn around and give them dirty looks.

"But we're only halfway through?"

"Read the room." Kyle said quietly.

Kenny looked around to see other students turning their heads, including Craig and those guys. He turned back, pulled his hood up and buried his head into his phone. Cartman abruptly stood up and grabbed his jacket. He then marched away with an angry swag and left the library completely. Kenny looked as though he was thinking hard about something. He felt bad. He whipped his head round just as the brunette barged through the doors and thought about going after him.

"You didn't do anything wrong." Kyle assured, as if he had just read his thoughts. "He's leaving to calm down. He told me yesterday that he's not really angry at you anymore."

It didn't make sense. "Then why is he acting like that?"

"Because he's a stubborn asshole."

It made total sense. "Oh. Right."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry for those waiting on the new chap, I am still working on it, but just finding life a bit hard rn lol. i’m aware that i’m going down a dark road and i’m trying to stop it before its too late for me. just a wave i gotta ride out, nothing to worry about :-) hope you understand x

#south park #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #kyle broflovski #Kyman

[retphienix]

I just want to rant about amps for a minute, forgive this.

I feel like the single best demonstration of the mediocrity of operator gameplay is to make someone hunt just 1 Eidolon.

In that time it becomes evident that Operators just. Don't have anything to do in this game.

Operators work perfectly fine as a passive additional buff to warframes.... well kinda. There are a lot of holes, bad decisions, bad focus school abilities, etc

BUT STILL, as a passive "side grade" to your gameplay they work fine! More energy or damage or survivability just easily tacked onto your build, that's fine! Could be more interesting etc, but it's fine!

But when you demand the operator actually does something demanding, some piece of content specifically made for THEM and not just "Slow that group" "Magus lockdown those guys" it becomes brain-numbingly empty.

Operators can equip only 1 weapon at a time, and that weapon has 2 fire modes that never matter since they use the same ammo pool so you just use the "right" one for the encounter, and your options are "Status" which does nothing 90% of the time, and has a really big flaw I'll mention shortly, or go "crit" which is just you begging desperately to do enough damage to not have to use operator anymore.

Now the big flaw? It's the same regardless of building for status or crit.

You.

Have.

No.

Meaningful.

Ways.

To.

Build.

For.

ANYTHING.

Operators have arcanes and that's it.

Go fuck yourself.

No mods, no meaningful amp parts since they can be summed up as "Good, this adds damage" and "Bad, this does nothing"- you're NEARLY hard locked at the same low output as everyone else all because ??????

The list of things that affect amp damage is so small it hurts.

You've got arcanes, which obviously has the caveat of being the latest of game acquisitions, often being things you have to Do The Content That Requires The Arcanes in order to actually Get The Arcanes You Needed To Do The Content (dumb), you've got the amp parts themselves which again, isn't as exciting as it sounds since it's pretty definitive how to make a good amp and how 90% of amp parts do fuck all for you, you have a small few focus abilities like void strike and wisps, both of which really do feel like insulting band-aids on a part of the game that has no meaningful decisions to make, and Volt shield for whatever reason (still don't get that).

It's.

Just something I find personally aggravating.

Amps being so painfully limited in what can be done to make them not dog shit feels like the worst decision they could have made in a poor attempt to make the 2 pieces of content that utilize amps, Eidolons and Angels, more difficult.

A failure of a decision as well, as all it's done has homogenized the right way to tackle both pieces of content where now you'll almost exclusively see the same amp EVERYWHERE if the players you're playing with are mid game+, you'll see volt in Eidolons, and you'll see Madurai against Angels (though, thankfully, Angels don't seem to scale worth a damn so you can use whatever it's just if you're trying to do it Fast and Well then it's pretty much just void strike, I find that tedious so I've just been using Zenny's slow to allow me to do enough damage before the orbs despite not running madurai).

I'm just salty amps are so limited and that those limits make the very little gameplay that uses operator as a core function feel like shit.

#warframe #RetPlays

[yurhighnessmio]

✍You are cursed. Every evil deed you perform reduces the time you have left to live. However, good deeds will grant you more time.

Short Story #3 - February 15, 2022; Tuesday; 11:58pm

Do I push this random old woman on a busy street or do I help her cross the road?—was probably the hardest question I had to ask myself in my life.

I am a villain. Well, to be more specific, I'm just a petty thief...who is also, not only hot looking—mind you—but also pretty much of a great guy overall. Don't question that, you don't have to.

Although, I'm kind of an ass, I don't deny that. I mean, what thief isn't a piece of shit, really? Yeah, I steal. Maybe beat a few motherfuckers up here and there when I feel like it. No biggie.

Though, I have to admit, it's not like I have a choice but to do this. This shit happens apparently when you drop off of six grade just because you feel like it. Don't blame me—How was I supposed to know things were gonna turn out this way? It ain't my fault.

You live with what'chu got, and you learn to like it. I mean, I do one job: I steal a few wallets a day then BOOM—I get cash. No working in the office listening to a bunch of good-for-nothings yelling at you to do better. No struggling to pay shitty bills you ain't wanna pay. No wasting hours working all day only to be payed what? Fifty bucks? No. None of that.

You hear how great that is? Damn.

But, you see here, I'm kind of in a bit of a mess and stuff. See, something's happened...I met a bitch, blah, blah, blah, yada, yada—anyways, she got herself a lil too pissed. If you know what I mean?

See, in the thievery industry, you gotta at least have a clue who tf you're messing with. Can't just put your hands in just anybody's pants, if you catch my drift—although, yes, sex? Do your own thing when it comes to that. Fuck a stranger, fuck a friend, fuck a teacher. Do it...Bless you.

Back to the thing. I make her a little mad. She's not happy about it. I made her lose her shit. She's not happy about that either. Stuff happens, yada, yada, and now everytime I do my shit, I'm fucking dying.

Like, what the fuck? What'd I ever do to her dumbass? I returned her wallet, didn't I? Maybe not the money and the credit cards, but the wallet. And isn't that enough? Piece of shit needs to humble herself a bit. Really.

Back to the point, alright, I live, I do my job, right? And all of the sudden, everytime some crazy stuff happens, I feel this fucked up urge telling me that I'm 'bout to be 56 years away from dying. Like, what the hell, man. I mean I get it, I'm not complaining, 56's a lot—I'm actually really satisfied when it comes to that but, you know, what the actual fucking fuck? You know?

Ain't no one's supposed to know shit like that. What am I? A wizard? I ain't no Potter kid, alright? And I can't even tell nobody 'bout this shit cause they'll just think I've lost my cheeseballs...probably will laugh like dumb motherfuckers too, them pieces of shit. All because of that bitch—

At first, I didn't care and sort of ignored it. Cause, duh? What's a bro gotta do when you suddenly feel something telling you that you're dying in 56 years? Exactly. Nothing.

So I continued my shit but fuck, man, the number just keep droppin'. I keep on telling myself, you know, this is all me. It ain't real.

But then, I get this great idea to be a little, and I mean a little, experimental about it. It's sort of like, a guessing game, right? I guess what happens if I do this, I guess what happens if I do that, if I hit someone in the face, if I fuck their wife that I see in the pub, you get me? And man! It was the funnest mother fucking shit I've ever done in my life.

Like, I can say stuff like, "I wonder what's it worth hitting you face?" And they wont know jackshit! Ha! Things were too good. If it were gonna go down regardless of the things I do, then I might as well have fun with it.

So I punch a drug dealer's face—Awesome. I fuck a priest at the altar—Hilarious! I push a bro out of his own fucking balcony—he didn't die, there was a pile of trash below him, but he did sprain his leg and smell like shit—Fucking. Wicked!

Then one day, I walk out of a convenient store after pick-pocketing a few wallets and suddenly I feel my life bar says:

30 minutes; 42 seconds.

What...do I do...? What do I do? What. The. Fuck. Do. I. Mother. Fuckin'. Do?.....Bitch, I run! That's what I do.

I don't wanna fucking die. Yeah, I didn't believe this shit at first. Was it stupid? Who tf knows? Do you believe a motherfucker is robbing a bank before he pulls the gun out? Hell no. You embrace your own cajones. That's wha'chu fuckin' do.

To say that I choked on my own spit because of it is an exaggeration. Though, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going to do anything about it. So I make sure not to lose my wallets and instead lose my damn shit as I try to look for something nice to do.

It's happened so often than not that when I actually do something nice for once, I get older. No, not get older, like, I don't die. Not like, the immortal type of not dying—I don't even know if that's possible—just, I don't die as early. I live longer—if you understand.

But what the heck can I even do? I don't wanna go around town like a moron going on and helping people for the rest of my life. I have a job. A responsibility to take care of my own ass—nevermind the mention of helping other people. I'm hard enough to maintain as I am.

All because of that bitch. I mean seriously, who does these to people? Witches! God, I didn't even think those things existed—If I knew, I would've backed the fuck out that instant but I didn't. Now I'm dying! What the heck—and I thought I was an asshole?

Looking for something nice to do at the side of a road is not so easy when there's really only one person I can help out: an old woman in her midnight dress and a cane that looks like she could have diabetes, maybe arthritis, who knows?

I gotta help her. But, then again, Help? Really? What am I, a bitch?

My blood is boiling and I don't really feel like helping an old piece of shit like her. I groan as I walk close, eyes darting to the road and back to her. I'm having a crisis:

Do I push this random old woman on a busy street or do I help her cross the road?

Vehicles of all kinds—cars, cheap ones, expensive ones, trucks, motorbikes, ambulances(three of them)—look like they're irking to run over a poor old lady right about now.

I remember the bitch that made me this way. Doing her Harry fucking Potter bullshit on me like there won't be consequences. Wait 'till I discover the existences of witch police. Definitely gonna get her sorry ass arrested.

I'm too pissed. Too pissed to even wanna move an inch from where I stood—staring at her like a damn predator. I am not into grannies, don't even start.

So I push her—mentally, as I actually lend her a hand and help her cross the street, holding her hand like old peope do in tv's.

"Why thank you, young man. Not very many people offer to help old folks like me these days. Your mother must be so proud!"

"Whatever, man." I can't even look at her.

When I reached the other end of the road, I drop her off. It was a fairly large town, but not many people like to go out. So, I wasn't surprised when all I saw at the other end was a mother, her child, and a beggar that seemed to be distracting the woman by insistently begging for coins.

The granny gave her thanks, and walked away. I feel my bar change.

1 day; 29 minutes; 32 seconds.

That's it? One!? I thought, Not to complain, but I worked too hard walking with that old hag's pace just to be added one day to my life. Whoever's in charge with handling my shit is a selfish prick and they fucking know it.

Out of anger, my eyes wander just enough to  see how the child is actually holding a lollipop. My stomach grumbles and I smile at the midget. Then I grab the lollipop and run for it the opposite direction before shoving the thing in my mouth.

I laugh like it's the end of the world. I could hear the child cry. I could also sense my bar change.

28 minutes; 56 seconds.

Son of a bitch.

🌟

Questions?

Comments?

Advice?

No?

Have a great day.

#literature #short story #oneshot #writing #writing prompt

[dzpenumbra]

12/6/22

Big day. Drove down to the old house to do a final sweep to sort trash and bring a final load of stuff back up. It took a long-ass time, but it's finally done. I'm officially moved in. Not even close to unpacked, but officially moved in! My place looks like a bomb went off, stuff all over the floor, 90% of it still in boxes, but I'm here. Yay!

The drive was fucked from the get-go. I tried to take the trash out, had no idea where to put it, put it in a blue bin in the trash room because they told me they only have recycling on the second floor and I'm on the first so... I just... assumed it was for trash? Whoops if not. Then I went to get gas. My card didn't work. Not the tap shit, not the chip reader. Ugh. Prepaid, got a Monster, hopped on the highway and called my Mom to figure out logistics on some home supply stuff she was gonna get. She was going to get me a chair and desk for my computer and stuff, really sweet of her. Especially since I've been sitting on a side table with a meditation cushion on it for the past like 4 days and my back is getting really fucked. She had to go real quick, and my distracted ass missed my exit. I had to take the next one and backtrack.

When I got situated, we got back into the conversation and had a really good meandering talk. Sorted out the chair/desk shopping. I shared with her my reconnection with the possibility that I have unmanaged ADHD (along with the PTSD and all the other shit) and that it might explain a LOT. And that I was diagnosed with it like 18+ years ago. And she told me a story of when I was in 5th or 6th grade and she tried to homeschool me and she could NOT get me to sit still in the chair. That I actually had been doing poorly in school because of this. I don't remember it at all, but she told me. She said it was like my chair had an "ejector seat" and she could not get me to just sit still. Unless it was world history, or mythology, or art. Then I'd just sink into it and be there for hours. And I told her I'm still like that, even with the same subjects!

I'm not sure what difference having even an official up-to-date diagnosis with this would do for me, I don't know how I feel about medications, I don't know. But at very least, as I explained to my mom, it could be a good way to relate to others that my brain is not really like theirs, and things that are easy and possibly even gratifying for them can be extremely difficult and not even remotely rewarding for me. But, again... impostor syndrome pops its head out of the murky depths... "You've been misdiagnosed before, remember?" "I don't know, sometimes you feel gratification when you get all the dishes done, right?" "You sure?" "You sure you're not faking it?" "You sure you're not just making excuses so you can get away with living in a messy dump and have your life go to shit because you're constantly overwhelmed with no one wanting to help you because you're just 'being lazy'?" That fucker can take a hike tonight, I'm getting tired of it.

I've had this diagnosis since I was like 16. Back then, there was a distinction between ADD and ADHD, but now they're the same thing. Inattentive ADD is now ADHD with Inattentive presentation. I've had that diagnosis for like 20 years, and I always just went... "well that's gotta be bullshit, I know people with ADHD and they are like constantly bouncing off the walls and are really loud and shit. I obviously don't have it." I think I'm cool with going with it for now and at least having a conversation about it with my social worker dude when I get to it. But it's not like an urgent thing to address, the acute trauma and adjusting to my new environment are kinda priorities. But like... it's been at the front of my brain 1) to bring me peace of mind that I'm not a lazy piece of shit that gets overwhelmed by basic everyday shit for no reason, 2) I'm starting to socialize more... and --- okay, this is dumb, but like... I feel like I need to warn people about how different I am than them, like right upfront. Like every fucking time I face a new person I feel compelled to give them the full AA introduction "Hi, I'm ______, I'm 36, I have PTSD and ADHD, I'm an artist. If I start weirding you out that's why." Does anyone else even obsess over this shit?!

Fuck it, here's a snapshot of my night. So I'll spare the bulky details of digging through decades of memory scraps that I salvaged from my old place. When I got home, moved all the shit in, parked the car and came back... I went a new way, through a different door. When I was --- kitty was exploring a cabinet and I went to set it up for her --- so when I was coming back through the hallways exhausted as shit, like dragging my ass through the hallway, last trip, laptop bag on my back, reusable grocery bag in one hand, wicker basket of food in the other. Like... I have no awareness of how I'm perceived by others sometimes, I must've looked like... like a packmule on his last legs or something. This attractive woman passed me. I saw her heading to the elevator as I was heading out, but didn't like... see her. She was very beautiful. And she looked at me and smiled and said "Hi." I think she was doing laundry. And I like... locked eyes, and kinda mouthed "hi" barely even audibly and half smiled but my mind was like... miles away. And 30 seconds later, I was in my door and... I was just kicking myself. Like this chick lives probably just a few doors down from me. "Hey, are you doing laundry? I'm just finishing moving in, I'm really new here, could you like... show me where the laundry room is?" Talk about an ice-breaker...

Ladies and gents, here's what my brain does with that prompt, ready for it? "Look, she probably has a boyfriend, okay? She's attractive and likely in her mid-30's like you, that's like... guaranteed she has a boyfriend. So... how would you feel if your girlfriend was showing some guy around the apartment building who was like, kinda hitting on her?" I shit you not. That was my conclusion. So... I think this whole "broadcast my disorders upfront" shit is like... a way for me to like... get 'permission' from people to just be myself and say the things I want to say without having to be all paranoid like that. This is like, the more I listen to myself talk about this it's like... who the fuck cares! Oh my god, I stress out so much about what other people think. Check this out, part of my brain talking about her "boyfriend". That's her shit to worry about, not mine. If she says "I have a boyfriend", I would immediately respect that. That's just like... "duh" for me. Like what kind of a prick wouldn't. So... and this is something my social worker brought to my attention that I clearly have to keep working on, I keep on taking on the worries and concerns and responsibilities of others. "What if I'm not understood, I should apologize and prepare people ahead of time just in case." Yo, that's their responsibility. If they get confused or misunderstand, it's their responsibility to seek clarification. If anyone that isn't a brain like mine is reading this and is going "well duh...", imagine living a life of 3.5 decades where the narrative I'm describing is just common sense status quo. How exhausting it would be. How neurotic it would make you.

Waking up to this kinda stuff is very similar to a moment I had watching the Your Mom's House Podcast over the pandemic. I don't watch anymore because some of their humor was upsetting me a lot, but... they talked in one episode about how Kristina would just put on clothes without drying herself off out of the shower for ages and ages. It was just... what she was of the understanding is what you're supposed to do, and was never corrected. And they mentioned people who don't dry their feet before stepping on the bathmat, and went "oh god, I hate people like that, so disrespectful to others". Well, I was one of those people. I thought that's what bathmats were for. And I have a lot of foot fungus problems, so I don't want to spread the infection by drying my feet with the same towel as the rest of my body, and having two towels is just like... come on. But like... waking up to that whole like "oh shit, that's not normal and others don't like that and no one even told me". Those moments. Those are hard ones. So if you're going to bring something like that up with someone, please do try to be gentle. Please treat it like telling someone they have spinach in their teeth, and express that you're doing it out of caring and that it's okay. I guess I'm saying, be gentle. And compassionate.

And I'm like that with taking on other people's problems, concerns, judgements, all that shit. Compulsively. Which makes social media hell. I'm working on it, and I'm getting better. There's really no practicing it, it kinda just needs to be done in the field. And this journal is a big part of my practice with it. Trying to not apologize for being my true, authentic thought-stream. Trying to not neurotically apologize and warn people before-hand, as though they're wandering into a minefield. "Be careful, this guy is weird!" I'm learning how to be okay being me, and to actually use that as a good litmus test for the people I want to be around and the ones I can live without. I don't need to win over everyone, in fact... winning over everyone has done a lot of damage to my life. So, I hope you guys don't take offense to this, but if you don't like the things I say or if I'm too weird for you, if my spiritual side is too kooky or my posts are too long or I swear too much or whatever. You can just like... keep scrolling. It's okay. And I won't be offended, I'll actually be a bit grateful that we can respectfully part ways on peaceful terms, with a nod and going different ways at a crossroads. I think that's a much more peaceful way to exist: to live and let live. And I think we should all be doing it a bit more often.

So, maybe my rediscovering of ADHD should be more about getting to know myself and why I do what I do, what I'm not even noticing I do, more that than warning new people of how eccentric I am. I think that's a healthier place to keep that. I'm glad I digested this thought, it's a pretty new one and a very strong one, and I think this is a much healthier place for it to be than the start.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts

[oli280]

"you, yea come here nerd!" The two football players shouted at Michael who was coming back from his maths class. The two meatheads were Alan and Greg, they were your average stereotypical Jocks, dumb, buffed up, loved going to the gym, watching and playing sports and most importantly either fucking a bimbo or wanking each other off in the locker rooms, they were horny as fuck, especially the Jocks that went to Michael's school, not a day went by without a rumour of yet another bimbo being impregnated by some jock cause most of the Jocks never wore condoms... including Alan and Greg.

Michael approached the two "what is it this time... will you bully me again or do you want to copy my history homework down?". The duo exchanged a mischievous look before jumping onto Michael, with a piece of cloth they managed to gag Michael and they were now carrying him to the men's bathroom within the school gym while Michael was resisting and trying to call for help even though he was gagged.

They arrived at the toilets and ungagged Micheal "what the fuck are you two doing, Help!" shouted Michael". "don't worry little bro no one will hear you so be quiet and enjoy our company hmm?" Greg chuckled. "We got you down here cause we wanted to reward you for the years of giving us homework and saving our assess... we want you to join our football bro pack!" Said Alan. "But I'm a nerd, I wouldn't fit in!" Said Michael. "Oh don't worry little bro... that's where we both come in, just lay back and relax while Alan will hold your arms".

The two approached Michael, Alan grabbed Michael's arms, Michael tried to brake free but couldn't so he resulted to shout again. Then Greg took Michael's Jeans and underwear off and started jacking off Michael's cock.

"What the fuck are you doing stop!" Shouted Michael. "Shut up, don't tell me you're not enjoying this we now how you've been looking at us thirstily the whole semester... oh and would you look at that you are getting turned on" said Greg while Michael's average cock got fully erect". "Gobble up Greg!" Said Alan and Without a seconds thought he began sucking Michael off.

Michael tried to resist but to no avail. The more Greg sucked him off the more he felt he was changing, be it his abs and pecs inflating to form a six-pack and a chilled out v-line to his also growing not so average anymore shlong. His arms and legs also inflated and his face became beautiful and new.

"ah would you look at you, you look like a Jock physically now your cock will reach its full potential once we're finished" laughed Alan before Michael shouted in his new deep booming voice "I don't want this please stop I don't want to be a dumb meathead!". "Well too late bro... what is it you nerds jockingly say: the bigger the cock the dumber the Jock" Alan laughed again while Greg released a gagged chuckle as he was till sucking Micheal off.

The metal transformation began. Michael felt like all his brain power was being sucked all the way to his new golf ball sized balls... Greg was literally sucking Michael out of his body through his growing cock. Memories of his love for maths and being the best student in his class and hanging out with his nerd friends during lunch were fading away, and soon they were being replaced by memories of him being called Mike not Michael... Mike always loved playing football ever since he was a child, he had bellow the average grades, he hit the gym to keep his physique and most importantly Mike loved to fuck and wank, he loved seeding hot bimbos and what turned him on is seeing how those bimbos bellies would later swole up with his seed which resulted in Mike also sleeping with the already impregnated bimbos.

As fear of being sucked out got replaced by moans of pleasure Mike couldn't hold it anymore "fuck yea braaaaaah!!!" Mike shouted as he repulsed his old self into Greg's mouth who after Mike stopped cumming spat the old Mike out of his mouth. "So bro, how do you feel?" asked Alan. "Fuck feel good bro, I still feel super fucking horny though I think I need a pussy to impregnate huhuhu" said Mike covered in sweat. "Come on bro, let's get you signed up to the team and acquainted with everyone". They gave Mike new clothes and the three of them walked out heading for coaches office.

After that day Mike's world wasn't the same. He began getting a lot of attention, Michael was a shy virgin but Mike was a cocky fuck machine that was ready to fuck at any time. After that day Mike was a conquer, he conquered many pussy's, came in many of them and impregnated them with his potent jock cum creating more alpha male eventual Jocks. The girls he didn't conquer were so in awe by Mike that they were wet in their panties simply looking at him waiting for him to conquer them... And those that resisted would give in after they'd experienced the pleasure Mike offered.

First Pic of the new Mike on his new Instagram:

#jockification #brainwashing #jock transformation #muscle #nerd to jock #jock #transformation #muscle transformation

[taechaos]

Rightful Punishment

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!reader

synopsis: You do Jungkook's assignments in exchange for his affection. You don't even perform as well in your own subjects, but you don't care because all you want to do in life is make Jungkook happy. But it gets complicated when he gets a bad grade because of you.

genre: drabble, smut, college au

warnings: degradation, dubcon, exhibition

word count: 1.4k

"Hurry the fuck up," Jungkook grunts in your ear as you try your best to write the conclusion for his essay. He took you to the library before his Literature lecture when you told him you weren't finished with his assignment, and he keeps pestering you in a hushed voice because of his limited time.

You don't take Literature, but you're dealing with the pressure of his grades for him.

"I'm almost done," you whisper as you skim over the contents of the long text that you stayed up scribbling because Jungkook's professor is a man from the older generation when online documents weren't a thing. It's a pain in the ass, but you don't dare complain. When you're confident that you've summarized your - his conclusion in perfect detail, you brightly grin and show it to him. "I finished it!"

He doesn't bother reading it and only runs his eyes over your handwriting to make sure it's intelligible. "Good girl," the corner of his lips tugs upwards in satisfaction when he makes out your analysis of some short story.

"Can I have my kiss now?" your eyes gleam with hope as you shyly look up at him. He's hovering over you with a hand on the back of your chair, knees bent to see you work better. He shortly pecks your lips and pats your head before walking off with your essay secured in his hand as he starts to read it without bidding you farewell. Your heart flutters as you watch him leave, your fingertip grazing his lingering kiss on your lips.

You do Jungkook's assignments in exchange for his affection. You don't even perform as well in your own subjects, but you don't care because all you want to do in life is make Jungkook happy. With the blessing of having academic smarts, you waste it on a man who only loves you when you give him what you need.

That detail doesn't sink in your head, because it doesn't matter.

Your heart aches when you have to admire him from afar. He doesn't allow you to interact with him in public unless he's delivering you a pile of work, which is every two weeks.

But it's different this time. Your face lights up when you're sitting on a bench outside your campus with a few friends and you notice Jungkook angrily stomping in your direction as he throws away a torn piece of paper on the green grass.

A smile graces your lips as you raise your hand to wave at him before he yanks on your wrist and pulls you out of your seat to drag you away. The sun is shining down on the both of you, and you're enjoying his bruising grip on your hand while birds chirp happily in the background. You're in bliss and you resist the urge to close your eyes until he's dragged you into an empty spot under the shade.

"You stupid fucking bitch," he spits as he pushes you against the wall. "That essay you gave me was bullshit! Are you playing me?"

"What?" you panic as your lips part. You hate seeing Jungkook upset. "But I-I worked so hard on it-"

"Hell you did," he grits, "I got a fucking C minus. I kissed you for that essay, only to get a C?"

"I'll rewrite it!" you instantly compromise in an attempt to please him, "please let me do it again. I promise I'll get you an A this time!"

His most common grade: A plus. Jungkook wants to become a paralegal without working a day in his life, and you're so willing to be taken advantage of that he doesn't even feel bad. The only form of appreciation you receive is a kiss or praise.

"He's not accepting retakes," he grumbles with a subtle snarl. "It's only 5% of my grade, so he thinks it doesn't matter." He scoffs at the audacity of the professor and you. "Get on your knees."

You stop scowling at the ground out of disappointment in yourself at his command and immediately obey. Your eyes grow wide when he starts unbuckling his belt. "What are you doing?"

"Shut the fuck up," he orders as he unzips himself. "I'm putting you to use, you dumb whore."

Your heart pounds as you convince yourself that you deserve the insults he throws at you; you did something wrong. He's just giving you the rightful punishment, you think when he shoves his cock inside your gaping mouth. Your scalp stings when he grips your hair to stop you from moving as he thursts in and out of your cavern. A gag rips out of you at his harsh movements when he sinks his length down to the hilt and his balls smack against your chin.

"Can't even do one fucking thing right," he snarls as he sharply breathes in and out through his nose. "Gonna fuck your brains out if you even have any."

He starts groaning when you swirl your tongue around him, disregarding your brimming tears and aching jaw. "Keep doing that," he demands while panting, and you wrap your lips around his length as he keep thrusting into you with your tongue desperately licking the underside of his shaft. "Fuck, yes," he moans under his breath.

"I thought about replacing you," he reveals while running his fingers through your hair as his hips begin to stutter. "Find someone smarter who can get one good fucking grade."

The tears you held back start streaming down your face as your heart sinks. You grow more desperate and hold onto his thighs, rubbing them up and down and pull your mouth away. A string of saliva connects you to the head of his cock as you whimper, "please don't. I'll do better, Jungkook, please!"

"I told you to shut up, didn't I?" he growls as he yanks on your hair and you whine at the pain. "Make me cum and I'll consider keeping you."

You start nodding frantically and swallow the pleads that beg to erupt from your swollen lips. You know what to do when he nods at you without moving his hips, so you start to pleasure him with your hand on his balls and your tongue teasing the slit on his tip. Your other hand pumps his throbbing length, and you moan to please him further. You're so needy, so desperate to make it up to him, and he knows it; he gets off on it.

He knows you love him with all of your being, but he doesn't realize that loves you just as much, if not more. He just wants to use you, and you're not doing yourself any favors with how feverishly you're sucking him off.

It resounds in his ears, all the noise you're making in an effort to satisfy him. You don't even care you're in a public space, and it turns him on to the point of sighing at the thought of fucking you in front of everyone.

"Go faster, don't you even know how to suck a dick properly?" he taunts and you take his balls in your mouth as your hand pumps him swiftly. You know he's reaching his high as his breaths become more audible, and you return to his tip to leave kitty licks. He's groaning at how feverous you are, and it's not long before cum begins to ooze out onto your tongue.

You lap it all up as he continues to release in your mouth while moaning breathily, loudly. "Shit, shit, shit," he hisses when he grows sensitive, bordering on overstimulation, and he pushes your head away to stroke himself to spurt out all of his cum.

You try your best to catch all of it, but a few drops land on your face and you collect them all with your finger. When he's finished, he holds himself up by leaning on the wall you're pushed up against. You're staring at his jaw and the way his chest inflates with each breath from under him. You swallow all of his release and it tastes slightly bitter on your tastebuds.

After he collects himself, he adjusts his pants and buckles up without saying anything.

"A-Are you going to leave me?" you meekly ask, but he doesn't reply. Only when he walks away as if nothing happened do you feel the pain on your knees that scraped against the cement from the force of his thrusts. You wipe the spit on your mouth when you take in your surroundings. A few students pass by you in the alley, only a few feet away from your campus.

Even though he humiliated you, you still love him and with a dull ache in your heart, you hope he doesn't leave you for someone else.

And you can't help but yearn for another lesson from him.

#bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #bts smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut

[the-stoned-priestess]

The Twin Flame Obession Is Dangerous; A Giant Waste Of Time And Resources

TLDR - Scroll down!

If this triggers you, good! That means I've made you think. My goal is to save people. I will be blunt and harsh but I mean well. DO NOT mistake my honesty for something else. I've seen way too many good people get caught up in this shit.

I'm going to write entries like this until I die and hope this makes people think honestly about Twin Flames and Soul Mates. I sincerely hope that by reading this you change your prospective to ditch the craze FOR GOOD! People need to wake up and smell the bullshit. The Twin Flame/ Soul Mate craze is rediculous and dangerous to your health and obsessing over these things is a mental health issue. Yes I repeat:

Twin Flame/Soul Mate obsession and interest IS a mental health issue!

People who scour the internet for TF/SM signs or looking for ways to "call in" thier TF/SM don't know what love is!

True unconditional love is loving someone regardless of whether or not they are a TF/SM. If you are finding yourself looking at signs or asking around if your love interest is, you are placing conditions on that very person you're interested in. Well, are you going to love them if they aren't your TF/SM? Most people say no. They want validation and someone to make them happy because they are fed so much bullshit about what love is.

You see all these ads showing fake couples doing all this shit. Sure, we all want that stuff. When you look at these stupid TF posts about "HOW TO TELL THEY ARE YOUR TF", what you're doing is taking that list and checking off every condition that makes this person your supposed TF.

The TF signs are trash, bullshit, unnecessary, and cause damage!

These "signs" are just a list of conditions. True, real, tangible, fulfilling love you deserve and want is unconditional. Meaning it doesn't require some dumb list to see if someone qualifies to be with you. When you really think about it, it's fucked up isn't it?

How would you feel if someone didn't want to date you because you didn't meet thier conditions or requirements? You're a good person, you pay your bills, go to work, you love them for who they are without turning to psychics or wannabe TF know-it-alls, but they say thier not interested. Mostlikely because according to some list you aren't thier TF/SM. Oh damn...it feels like trash.

People stay in abusive relationships because the other is thier "TF/SM"!

Well what if they weren't a TF/SM? You could be wrong but you're convinced because of some list or a psychic told you. Can't you even think for yourself? Don't you even love yourself? What if this person isn't what you thought they was and just is a grade A manipulative piece of shit? Oh but you convinced yourself they were some magical unicorn that will glide with you over a rainbow. Nah, that's a mental health problem you want to ignore.

Twin Flame / Soul Mate "Gurus", sit down, listen the fuck up!

Wannabe TF know-it-all, let's not pretend that people who are desperate don't have an underlying mental health issue. Desperate people usually have issue with self-worth, didn't get enough love as a child, come from a rough background, watched way too many romance movies, and daydream of the perfect love. It's a daydream because they are asleep.

They have to be asleep to think perfect love exists.

Now, wannabe TF "expert", by spreading bullshit about TFs/SMs, you're fueling that depressed, yearning, anxious, "unloved" person more trash they already get BEFORE and AFTER reading your lies. You're like a drug dealer feeding a false sense of security to people with mental health issues. You give them a lists of (yes) CONDITIONS. You're actually feeding them conditions for love when love is supposed to be unconditional. Expert, how are you even helping? You're not helping because you're feeding loads of garbage calling it good enough because you want to feel like a hot shot. Ego reaching, self-important, and spreading damaging information.

Wannabe "Guru", you will have blood on your hands.

People harm others, harm themselves, even kill others or kill themselves over this shit. Know-it-all, do you still feel comfortable spreading this bullshit for the sake of your inflated sense of "intelligence"? Do you really think selling or spewing conditional love is spiritual? Do you even know what unconditional love is? If you do, why are you posting "twin flame signs" or saying as if you are some expert? Guru, no one is an expert on this topic. It's made-up overplayed dogma that exists just to fuck people up. It's not backed by science. It's a social-spiritual CONSTRUCT! Yet people swear by it like misinformed Bible thumpers (they don't know the Bibles Genesis a retelling of older stories) or conspiracy nuts. Let's bring in the Easter bunny and the biblical God into it while we're at it.

Pride is a sin. Pride is ego. Sin and ego are supposedly not spiritual. Okay yeah I know no one is perfect. But hold on for a second wanna be TF Guru. Claiming flat-out you know this much about TFs/SMs makes you as good as a preacher who snorts coke, orders hookers, and beats his wife. So why do it?

Yes, I have a TF but no I didn't scour or BELIEVE in them.

I still don't believe in love at first sight, but my life changed when I met my TF. I learned about TFs years and years ago and laughed it so hard I fell over. So when I found out, (long long story) I thought he was a demon and fucking with me. BTW for the sake of my blog, I call him my TF. It took me a long time to wrap my head around it. I realized that Idc if he's a demon with a heart of gold or if he's really my TF. He's saved me in so many ways, taught me so much on my journey including this topic, protected me, given me hope, and loving guidance over 5 years.

I don't give a flying fuck what people say or whatever because I love his spirit more than I've ever love any living thing in this world. Even if he were alive I would have loved him no matter the circumstances he had before his suicide. Because THAT is unconditional love.

BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT REAL LOVE IS!

____________

Tldr: Twin Flame and Soul Mate searching and obsession isn't real love. Using signs or lists to determine if someone is good enough for you isn't love. It's NOT unconditional love. It's not real love if you stay in an abusive relationship because you *think* or assume they are you TF/SM. It's also not self love either.

Wannabe TF/SM gurus need to stop spreading lies and bullshit about what TFs/SMs are. No one is an expert. It's impossible to be and there is no scientific evidence to back up your claims. You're no better than a drug dealer, you are not helping anyone and you can be the reason for a lot of unnecessary pain and suffering.

You love someone for who they are because that's what unconditional love is. Loving someone just because you drank the kool-aid some "expert" gave you isn't love at all! Stop reading and posting about this shit and save someone's life. PLEASE LITERALLY SAVE SOMEONES LIFE!

#tarot community #ask a psychic #witchblr #free readings #tarot readings #psychics #psychics of tumblr #tarot cards #psychic #tarot readers #twinflames #twin flames #twinflame #twin flame #soulmates #soul mates #soul mate #soulmate #love #relationship goals #suicide #suicide prevention

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

2. Mona Lisa

I stay in a two room double on campus which means that I share a bathroom, but the room is my own to do with as I please, within reason.

Typically, I'm milking this privacy for the money to fund my education while simultaneously releasing my sexual tension in the most taboo of ways.

Sighing, brush my teeth and reapply my lip gloss in the mirror. I can feel tremors in my poor peach, she's reminiscing on the good times when she was exhaulted like the queen she is. Men would spend literal hours worshiping her every crevice and pay me handsomely for it.

Four days down, ten to go, I tell myself.

Sex is my ideal outlet for stress relief. It's my interest, my hobby, my reprieve. As you can imagine, I have to change my sheets on a daily basis, but I don't mind that.

Yes, I have brought a number of guys over to participate in certain acts that I'm sure my bathroom mate has heard through the wall. She doesn't look me in the eye anymore though I always speak to her.. and she hasn't done so for the past month or so. I think she's traumatized.

Tickled, I re-apply my sunscreen and change into my grey PINK leggings with matching sports bra, pulling my 360 install into a curly high bun and stretching to prepare for my mid-day jog.

Everyday, I jog through the Main Quad and work up a sparkle, since princesses don't sweat.

I carry a pink hydro flask and I jog as far as I can push myself to go, often ending up at the Oval, a place where students play volleyball and walk dogs. I like to sit out from time to time and watch.

Then I head back to my room and assemble my hygiene kit to take into the bathroom. I shower, cleanse, exfoliate if necessary, moisturize, and redress for the evening.

Today's evening wear is a black graphic half shirt with a gold crown printed on and black high waisted shorts with black platform sneakers from Dolls Kill. I add my gold anklet for mood before turning on my music.

Pretty little bird, pretty little bird

You've hit the window a few times (the window a few times)

You're pretty little bird, pretty little bird

You still ain't scared of no heights

When the spiral down feels as good as the flight

When hating you feels good for the night

When the morning comes, I hope you're still mine

My cellphone rings and it's Natalie, one of the black girls in this dorm. The first day we met, we made a silent pack to stick together, us and a couple others, and months down the road we've stuck to it.

"Back from your jog, Gem?"

"Yes, and I'm looking at my notes so no you cannot borrow them."

"Jokes on you, I took them yesterday when you were jogging and made copies, I'm set."

"You bitch," I tease. "What's the move tonight?"

"Whaaat? You're not busy with one of your John's?"

"Bitch, my legs are closed, my books are bussed wide open," I smile highlighting a sentence in the textbook. I have four exams to take.

Checking a text from one of my subs, Keon, I send a short reply with a 💋. He was just checking on me, asking about my studies.

"Well we're thinking of hitting a party with a few of the black exchange students."

Party?

My book slams shut. I have been extremely well-behaved this week, I deserve a little magic in my life. It won't hurt.

"Who's we?"

"Me, Kayla, Letitia, Kevin, and Chris."

Damn, Chris' fine ass can get it. I want him.

Okay, it's decided. I can finish up here, meet Mr. Stevens at 7 in his office, meet up with Natalie and the crew around 8 and then we'll head out. I can handle a few drinks.

Jumping up, I feel alive again for the first time in four days. I snatch up my makeup trunk and set it on my desk pulling out my handheld mirror.

Light beat. Lashes. Dark liner, heavy gloss.

I release my loosened strawberry curls from the bun letting them wave and fall on my shoulders.

xoxo

Approaching the office suite, I walk through to find that the other offices are already empty. I can tell because of the quiet and closed doors. Mr. Stevens' door is open and yellow artificial light streams into the small hallway.

When I come upon the door, Mr. Stevens is at his desk staring intently at a spread of papers, his gold-rimmed glasses fallen at the end of his nose.

My peach is telling me this scenario could be a problem. Dr. Stevens is a steak and lobster meal and my peach? She's salivating. Crossing my legs on the spot where I stand I knock on the door drawing his eye.

"Ms. Miller. Come in, have a seat."

Quickly, I plop down into one of the two chairs in front of his desk and sling my bag down to the floor beside my chair.

He awakens his computer, typing before reading through whatever's displayed. Then he turns the screen to face me and I'm looking at a layout of of my grades for the class. It's looking pretty good.

"Could be better," I stare waiting for what I came for.

"You're right, it could be. You see, as it stands everything for you is riding on this exam. You could walk away from this class with a high C or a high A. It's really up to you."

I lean forward with my elbows on the desk to look him in his narrow-set eyes.

"Look at my face, Mr. Stevens," I glare for emphasis. "Does it look like I'm down to settle for a high C? What did we discuss in the classroom?"

Again, it's a chess match of stares.

After about ten seconds this time, he pulls his glasses off, folding them gently and sitting them off the the side near the computer. He turns the computer screen back to it's original position and pulls a paper packet from his desk, raising it vertical with the print side facing towards himself and away from me.

It's the exam, I know it. I maintain eye contact.

"This," he pauses holding it up near his head. "If anyone... and I mean anyone.. discovers that you have this... you're on your own. I'll turn ya ass in so fast your head will spin. You will be expelled."

I've never heard him curse before.

"No one will find out, I'll guard it with my life."

"There's one more thing." He lowers the packet setting it away from me on the desk near his glasses. "Correct me if I'm mistaken, but I seem to recall you saying something along the lines of you not playing bout your grades or money.."

"Yeah?"

Licking his lips, he leans forward and I sit bolt straight.

"How far you willing to go for both?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

I blink in shock. Not good ol' Mr. Stevens! This has gotta be a joke. Mr. Hottie would never sleep with a student, he's far too strict. 

"Gemini," he whispers, the name lingering on his tongue in a way that gives me full body chills. How did he know my stage name?

"Mr. Stevens, I think you're mistaken. My name is Phoebe, remember?" I tilt my head to jog his memory. "Phoebe Miller?"

He scoffs, loosening his tie and I'm aware of myself breathing harder.. loudly.

He tosses his tie on the desk between us.

Unbuttoning the top few buttons on his shirt, I can see his sharp clavicle and a tease of the muscle beneath. My mouth is watering and he leans forward again.

"Let's skip the part where you play dumb and get straight to negotiations. You're a smart girl...Sexy," he whispers.

My eyes widen hearing that word come from his lips. My thighs press together. This isn't a body that can hold back once started up. He's treading dangerous ground.

I lean forward slightly and the corner of his lips lifts in a dark smirk.

I've never seen this man like this.

"I've been to Mickey's. You know, there's this move you do... on that pole... I've seen you do a few times now and I've been wondering every time I see your lil conceited ass in my class... how it would work if you tried it on a dick."

Shit.

He said the magic word! I'm wet. I'm wet! I cross my leg over my thigh and he sits back, standing tall as I look up at him, ready to do anything.

He walks over to the door, closing it gently and locking it. Panting, I watch him do it and then he walks back to his seat, reclining with his hands clasped loosely in front of him.

"I have the power to give you an A," he announces. "Right here, right now."

"Oh really."

Oh my fucking god, I'm so wet right now. I can feel it.

"Mhm... I can also ensure that you pass your other classes, no problem," he brushes his shoulder. "BUT."

"But," I breathe.

"I need something from you."

Blinking at his boldness, I can't help the lust that comes to my eyes. This is a fantasy. Shit like this does not happen.

"Yes?" I'm licking my lips, biting them in anticipation. Say it, I beg with my eyes. Say it!

"I want you.."

Yesss?

"..to be.."

I lean in closer.

"So eager," he laughs. "You know, the way you look at me, you remind me of the Mona Lisa. There's a secret behind your eyes and every time I see you... that's what the fuck I see. It's like you wanna fuck me..."

Sitting up again to lean forward, his face is now inches from mine.

"You're going to be my slave, Ms. Miller. My personal.. little slut. Just until the exams are over," he nods.

I have to think about that, but not for long.

"And you can ensure all A's," I confirm.

Smiling, he nods. It's the perfect scenario, I want to cry.

"Deal."

"You can't tell a soul," he whispers coming in closer. His breath smells like spearmint. His lips are centimeters away now and I can't hold myself back any longer, I close the distance meeting his soft lips with mine.

Getting as far as a peck, he pulls back looking away like a man who's just made a deal on something as trivial as a lawn gnome or a piece of patio furniture. There's an unrushed boredom that only serves to intrigue me as he goes through the buttons on his shirt, letting the white fabric fall open to reveal the built muscles I kind of knew were there... but never to this extent.

His skin looks like smooth rum and I want a taste, but he has a deliberate pattern of raised bumps all over his chest and abs. It's not a turn off. In fact, I can think of a few things to do with that.

He smirks as if reading my mind.

Leaning further forward, I'm out of my seat and leaning over the desk.

With my right hand I reach up to touch his right pectoral but snatch my hand back when he smacks it away. I feel the sting. He's heavy handed.

"Did I say you could touch me?" His eyes hold venom.

He sounds like me when I'm disciplining a sub.

"No sir."

"Don't smile."

"But my smile is so cute," I grin watching his wheels spin.

"That's true," he admits with a nod. "But you know what's even cuter?"

"There's cuter?" I tilt my head innocently and he smiles.

"Hm," he chuckles. "...Don't move."

Holding my position over his desk, I remain still as he stands up again, slowly circling out of my view. Behind me, he stands and I can feel his presence. I feel a spanking coming on. I can feel him-

"MM," I squeak feeling the first hit. It's firm, but not too rough.

"Shut up, you've taken worse," he comments and I wonder how he knows because it's true. This is nothing.

Hit number two comes and it's a little bit harder than the first.

"Be gentle," I whisper looking back.

The third hit is double the strength of the last, I feel it and breath out.

The fourth is much harder and I make a sound to let him know I feel it. He hears me because the next swat feels like he really reeled back and it stings. It has me anxious for the next hit.

"I once saw you take a flogger," he breathes and I hear it in his voice, he's getting excited. I wonder if his dick is hard. How big is it? "Who you think requested it," he huffs and the swat he takes makes me hit the desk.. for real this time.

"You're a sub-SSSS," I hiss throwing my head back. "Damnit, okay now," I warn."

"Move your hands."

I don't know.

"Get back down... and move your hands," he repeats firmly.

Hesitantly, I drop them and brace myself on the desk.

"Uh!" I close my mouth and gather myself. It really stings. He keeps hitting the same damn spot, but in the way that tying a rubber band around your finger feels good, it also feels good.

"Take those shorts off..," he mutters. I can hear him breathing and when I look back, he's taking the button up completely off and unbuckling his black leather belt. "Hurry up.. take it off."

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik killmonger smut #killmonger smut #erik x oc #erik killmonger x oc #tales of a masochist