Imagine been born with the ability to turn whatever you write into a reality. You could create people out of nowhere, you could create amazing creatures with just a few descriptions, you could create entire worlds just by writing them down on a paper. But you can't, not right now. Right now your power is not enough. You are not the one making the story, the story is writing itself and you are just a vessel it is using to come true. And the story is making someone you care for suffer. You have to write it, you have to write it all. You have to write how the person who helped you find yourself, helped you accept yourself, is beaten over and over just so others can have their happy ending. Just so the story can end, you keep on writing and writing just so the story can finally end.
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working at those roblox customer service job games is insane. because last night there was some guy who kept being a smartass and the way he was ordering made me want to pull my hair out and run into the woods. "You want a bacon burger without pork.. so.. a normal burger?" "no. bacon burger with no pork" "but bacon is pork." "N o."
(i just gave him a normal bacon burger, i really have no clue. you ask for a bacon burger, you're getting the freakinf bacon burger)
"Do you want your ice cream in a cup or a cone?" "yes."
this guy was at my register for a total of maybe 20 or 30 minutes i have no CLUE
he was right on the edge of what counted as trolling. like, teetering off a cliffside. I was very close to calling a moderator at some point.
These people put you through hell and back. they make you growl like a wild animal at the screen. they drain you of every ounce of whimsy and life you have. and then, out of nowhere, they tip you 500 freaking robux for what im assuming is the big finale. an unexpected plot twist. (and compensation,) and then they leave.
god
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hi hello i woke up to an emaillllllllll
guess it sent thru their automatic system bc i got it way outside of business hours which is why i'd stopped checking and didnt see it till today
point is APPARENTLY
IT WORKED. THE NEW DR IS GONNA GHOST-RUN MY HRT THRU THE CRAP DR UNTIL THE NEW YEAR WHEN I CAN TRANSFER MY TREATMENT TO HER OFFICE INSTEAD
it listed the next 3 dates n times they could fit me in (bc its literally a 15-20 min appt max so its nbd *angrily side eyes them for lying and telling me no slots would be available for weeks*) and ONE IS ON MONDAY. THIS MONDAY. 48 HOURS FROM NOW.
it says i have to call as soon as they open monday to claim a slot and if by then it's not available anymore then i'll have to pick a different one but i am gonna be the FIRST mf-ing person on that fuckin phone queue u bet ur ass
cause oh my god. first of all ???? YES, I AM, HOPEFULLY MOST LIKELY GETTING MY FULL HRT STARTED THIS WEEK. 🎉
second of all??? IT WOULD BE SO FUCKING COOL / FUNNY / ON BRAND IF MY OFFICIAL HRT START DATE/ANNIVERSARY WAS ON HALLOWEEN. THAT WOULD BE JUST. SO GOOD LMAO
idk so there's the update y'all. i should hopefully be starting treatment this week thanks to this new doctor's persistence and support. i'm very relieved, esp knowing its just for a few appts until the new year when i can switch over. fuck yes.
(for the inevitable question: no this doesnt erase the legal issues and report being done on my drs office. that will be ongoing. theyre also still witholding other things i need and denying me other services. BUT this?? this they cannae ignore any longer bc now multiple other drs, offices, legal reps and outreach workers have kept their phones ringing off the hook. wouldnt be surprised if the reason theyre giving in now is just to stop me & my backup from annoying the absolute shit out of them tbh. ah well idc why as long as it happens.)
anyway. time for happy dance? yes? lets make it seasonally appropriate
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“wait—!”
“stop fuckin running.” he says, punctuating every word with a thrust. “knew exactly what you were doing earlier, slut!” he seethes, grinding the tip of his cock into a spot that only he could reach.
“fuck— i know! im sorry!” you moan and choke, head being forced into the plush throw blanket.
“fuckin’ slut wanted this cock? you get this cock.” with a growl in his throat, slamming himself back into you. shit, was he that mad about you sitting in his lap? “yeah, you know?”
“yes– fuck im so sorry! fuck!” you scream, legs shaking in ecstasy as you try to keep them open. you cry when he slaps your ass, hand prints indented into your skin.
he never responds, hands on your hips as he plows himself into you from behind. only growls emit from his throat when he starts a rhythm that makes him feel good. he was mad, mad that you didnt ask to sit on his lap, yet he didnt care if you did. the only difference being that you were in public.
so was he mad about something so small? yes. thats exactly that.
but he loves random punishments, and you do too.
“going to ruin your fuckin’ whore body.” he laughs, nails digging into your skin. “you dont get to cum, i get to.” he cruelly says, angling himself to go deeper. he hits a spot that felt deeper than your cervix, and that kicks him off. “take it, take it, take it!”
your eyes roll back to your skull, brain being fried from the constant thrusts into your cunt and having to not scream his name.
he pulls himself, spurting white, thick ropes of cum on your ass and back. it ran hot, burned even if you could call it that. you try to sit up, yet he slams you back down.
“you thought i was finished with you? another thing to punish you for.”
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