#but he gives me skinny white boy sometimes

[casmustdiee]

okokok HEAR ME OUT‼️ ninjago headcanon jumpscare‼️‼️

maybe it’s because little nine year old me insisted and making the ninja hispanic (istg there was no rep and I HAD TO DO WHAT I COULD TO MAKE MYSELF HAPPY 🥲) and while now i definitely have diff hcs for their races/ethnic backgrounds, i can’t not think of cole as dominican. tell me this man isn’t dominican. like that’s where he gets his dark BEAUTIFUL skin from. (this man is gorgeous to me i swear) i like to think that lily was a proud dominicana and lou was italian- not sure why italian but he’s always given me italian vibes 💀 but just imagine cole gets really frustrated and just yells out some spanish phrases in a dominican accent because while he was too young to learn the full language, he did grasp a lot of it and the accent from lily 😭

*ninja, peacefully going about their day*

cole, out of nowhere, muffed-ly heard throughout the entire monestary: PUÑETA HIJO DE PUTA

edit: it just hit me i used puñeta instead of coño but tbh he’d used both 💀

[aryxchse]

the hot lifeguard. | percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader.

a / n : no one's requesting for my husband so i simp for him on my own (and with my girl annabeth chase ofc)

warnings ; cursing, you being a simp (totally not inspired from me), him being a simp, maybe nsfw mentions idk just horny teens, hot percy jackson, my baby annabeth because she's too cute for you to handle, ALSO LONG ASS FIC WTF, well you know me, i'm a sucker for daughter of hera trope

having a crush on percy jackson was normal in the campers.

he was hot, powerful, funny, sarcastic, kind, loyal, and believe me, the list goes on.

so when he started working as a lifeguard in the camp, suddenly everyone was in the water. he, the little shit he is, surfed once in a while too, to give a little show to the girls and boys. he was the aphrodite cabin's precious, which piper was disgusted. but he was proud.

today was another day for the camp to be at lake, swimming. annabeth dragged you out from the peaceful hera cabin, saying that you should at least get in the water to survive this hot weather. even though you wanted to stay inside, she was right, like always. the weather was hot and you started to get embarresed from the amount of times you asked jason to create a wind for you.

now you were going to use percy's element to cool down, which is, your secret crush.

"having a crush on percy isn't bad as you think." annabeth said quietly, carrying her and your beach bags. you, who was carrying the snacks and your surfboard, sighed. "oh yeah? i'm literally in a fucking cult annabeth. the 'i-have-a-crush-on-percy-too' cult. and believe me, there's so many of us."

annabeth laughed at you and found a good spot while you were rambling. she put the bags down on the sand and pulled out a blue picnic blanket to claim the area.

"i know the cult, i was a member of it when i was like, 12." she joked, now putting the bags on top of the blanket to keep it in place. "then i left, realising i wasn't really in the cult."

you smirked at her as you took off your big camp shirt, laying on the blanket with your matched blue bikini. "see? you should know what i feel."

annabeth shrugged, taking off her own camp shirt, leaving herself with her yellow swimsuit. "not really." she said. "besides, there's no one like you in the cult. you're quite famous yourself."

you raised an eyebrow at her, taking a lemonade from the little fridge standed beside you. "how so, blondie?" you asked, taking a sip.

"well, you're the only daughter of the famous hera, and literally the definition of good. everyone knows and loves you, you're always helping people. the little kids call you mom sometimes for gods' sake." she explained, and you chuckled.

"what's that have to do with percy?" you asked as you grabbed a diet coke from the fridge. annabeth groaned, taking the diet coke from your hand. "what i'm trying to say is, you probably have his attention already. you're as famous as him and you're literally gorgeous."

you 'awww'ed at annabeth which she gagged playfully. you left a kiss to her cheek. "thanks annie, but i'm only successful at being little boys first love. not getting the famous percy jackson's attention."

annabeth groaned louder, laying on her back. "man, people talk about the skinny white boy like he's some god." she said. "when he was twelve, he was basically a loser."

you laughed at her and stood up, taking your surfboard. "how nice of you to talk about him like that." you joked, and annabeth made thumbs up to you. "anyways babe, i'll surf a little. there's a lotta good waves goin' on right now."

annabeth looked at the ocean and sighed. "you sure? it looks dangerous today." she said, and you only giggled at her worries. "oh please, you know i'm good at surfing as much as percy."

"yeah, sure. don't let piper hear that'." annabeth yelled after you as you walked away. you waved at her without turning back.

you looked around a bit. the apollo kids was blasting music in the food corner, which was now full of demigods. dionysus kids was making cocktails without the alcohol, because their dad's were watching them. chiron was just chilling next to mr d, a sunglass on his face, and the aphrodite kids was playing beach volleyball with the demeter kids.

then you looked at the right. oh, there he was.

percy jackson, sitted on the guard chair -you really didn't know what it's called- with that tan and muscular body of his. he had a sunglass on his face and an ice cream stick in his mouth. he lazily swinged his feet once in a while, and the blue shorts of his were looking so damn good on him. the red whistle hanged around on his bare chest, not that he touched it often.

you stopped staring when a girl accidently bumped you, apologising right after it. you smiled and said it was nothing, internally thanking the girl for making you turn back to life again. you were damn sure annabeth was making fun of you.

little thing you didn't know that percy, was observing you in that blue bikini, behind his sunglasses. what do you think was the reason of him wearing them? to be cool? nah, he doesn't even need those to be cool. he's just watching you secretly. you, didn't had any idea you were making an eye contact with him until that girl bumped to you.

he watched you dive in the water like you were poseidon's champion or something, getting on that white surfboard of yours like a damn model. percy felt like he was drooling at the sight, which he probably was.

he was snapped out of his gaze with mr d yelling at him. man, you were just about to bend over and stand up on that board.

"yes, mr d?" he said lazily, rolling his eyes behind the sunglasses.

"this little shit needs to find the bathroom, go show him." mr d pointed some little boy who was holding his shorts like his life depended on it. percy jumped down from his seat like it wasn't 2 feet tall, and smiled at the boy.

"don't mind him, he's an old man who's angry he can't drink." he said to the boy, ruffling his hair. the boy only nodded. "i don't really care anyway, i just need to pee."

percy chuckled as he picked the little boy in his arms, already taking him to the bathroom. "i'll carry you little fella. just be careful not to pee on me."

"i won't, thank you percy." the little boy said. percy wasn't suprised that he knew his name. "no problem. what's your name kid?"

"peter." he said. percy chuckled again. "yeah? mr d used to call me peter. he still does sometimes."

the little boy laughed as percy entered the bathroom. "really? so that's why he calls me percy sometimes." he said, forgetting he had to pee. percy smiled. "probably. go and let go all your pee boy, i'll be back on busin-"

he couldn't finish his sentence when annabeth rushed to the boys bathroom. "percy!" she yelled.

percy turned around to look at annabeth and smiled. "hey 'beth, nice to see you. not a really good spot for meeting don't ya thi-"

"there's no time for joking seaweed brain! she's fucking drowning!" she yelled at him. percy immediatly took of his glasses as they already start running towards the ocean.

"who?" he asked.

"y/n! you know her right?" annabeth said breathlessly.

of course he did, he fucking adored her. percy's worry only growed when he saw how big those waves were. the demigod's were already in panic as they looked at the sea. chiron called percy and said that the daughter of hera needed to be saved immediatly. percy didn't even stopped to listen to chiron as he dive into the water.

you thought you could handle it, or at least swim up and sit on your board. but no, poseidon was definetly in a bad mood, and he was taking his anger out from you, probably.

as you lost your balance and fell into the water, you didn't panicked and started swimming as usual. but big and strong waves hit you back and forth, until you were tired, swallowed too many water and fainted.

when you opened your eyes, you thought you were in elysium. or it was just some another version of the little mermaid.

percy smiled at you as you opened your eyes, his big hands cupping your face. he was panting, not because he was tired from all the swimming, no. he was panting because he fight with the thought of losing you for the past five minutes as he worked on getting out the water you swallowed.

"there you are, breath honey. can you do that?" he asked, and you caughed a bit. you nodded softly as he lifted you until you sat up, his strong arms still supporting your back.

you looked around, there was only the two of you, the crowd was long gone. you looked at percy again as your hand find it's way to your forehead. "what happened?" you asked.

"nothin' to worry about angel, just some big waves." he explained, caressing your back softly. you let your body rest on his chest, sighing as you remembered what happened.

"didn't thought the waves would get this crazy." you said, voice still hoarse as you caughed again. percy nodded as he patted your back. "me either."

after a minute of silence, percy finally speaked up again. "i... i'm sorry i was late, i took this little kid called peter to the bathroom because mr d asked me to, i swear i'd help you quicker if i didn-"

"percy, hey, it's okay." you shushed him, your hand caressing his arm. "you already saved my life."

percy nodded again. "yeah i know, i know. but i just," he sighed. "i don't know what i'd do if i lost you before i even asked you out."

you giggled to his chest. "yeah? you were gonna ask me out? when?" he smiled into your hair.

"today. been watching you for sometime now."

"creep." you joked.

"observing beauty, i'd say." he said, smirking.

you sat straight and looked deep into his eyes, which now matched with the color of the sea.

"i'd love to grab some lemonade with you, as a way of thanking you i guess." you said as you smirked back at him. percy chuckled as his hand caressed your cheek.

"who am i to refuse a sweet thank you, right?"

[raaorqtpbpdy]

God Only Knows

Everyone knows AU, but Wes doesn't know that everyone knows, and neither does Danny, because even though everyone knows, everyone also knows better than to acknowledge it.

For the prompts:

Everyone knows the connection between Danny Fenton and Phantom. To keep their town's hero safe, everyone pretends to be oblivious. Only this one kid doesn't seem to have gotten the memo. [From @vigilant-insomniac], and It's like Santa, the students of Casper High think. You know he's fake, just your parents playing pretend, and if Danny wants to play human, well. Who are they to ruin the fantasy? [From @uniasus]

This is a take on Wes I've never written before, despite having written quite a few Wes fics, and it was a lot of fun, I hope you like it : )

Read also on AO3

[Warnings for mentioned injuries, threats, and implied bullying]

Danny Fenton was dead. Everyone knew that.

After an accident in his parents' lab, he'd been rushed to the hospital and declared dead on arrival. He had an obituary in the paper, a grave. His death had even been announced over Casper High's PA system, and there had been a moment of silence, and all the science classes had done lessons on lab safety so that what had happened to him might not happen to anyone else.

Then, a couple weeks later, Danny Fenton was back at school like nothing had happened. Hanging out with his loser friends, going to classes, eating at Nasty Burger. Like he was still a regular kid. Except that beakers slipped through his fingers, and he kept walking through vending machines, and falling through the floor. Sometimes all or part of him would turn invisible, or he'd start floating a few inches off the floor and his friends had to pull him back down to earth.

Every time, he would look around in a panic, like he was hoping no one saw, and every time, those who had seen pretended they hadn't. It was Santa Claus, the Casper students reasoned. You knew he was fake, just your parents playing pretend, but it made them happy when you pretended with them. If Danny wanted to play human, well... who were they to ruin the fantasy.

Besides, no one wanted to be the one to remind him that he'd died.

Then the school was attacked by a ghost, and another ghost appeared to stop her. It was the ghost of a 14-year-old boy, wearing a Fenton Works jumpsuit. There was no mistaking that Danny Fenton, the dead kid attending their school, was also the dead kid protecting it.

But after a couple of days, it was clear that Danny himself still thought it was a secret, so everyone else silently agreed to let him keep thinking that. He'd been through a lot, and they didn't need to make it harder on him. Even Dash never brought it up—and he kept bullying Danny, for being week and unpopular, just to keep up the illusion that nothing had changed.

When out-of-towners started poking around, asking questions, everyone kept the secret. The strangers were clearly ill-intentioned, wanting to capture Danny for some reward. Even if he was deluding himself about still being alive, Danny was a good kid who protected the town. The least the locals could do as thanks was act oblivious to keep him safe. They were used to pretending, anyway.

Except this one kid didn't seem to have gotten the memo.

"Uh, yeah, I have some information on the ghost!" Wes called out to the Guys in White nosing around their school.

Kwan grabbed him, covering his mouth and dragging him around the corner before the Guys in White could see who'd called out to them. He felt something slimy on the palm of his hand and let go of Wes with a noise of disgust.

"What the hell!" Wes demanded.

"Did you just lick me?" Kwan asked, wiping his hand off on his jeans. "Gross!"

"Dude, you dragged me down the hallway! What gives."

"You were gonna spill to the Guys in White. You can't do that!"

"Just 'cause no one around here believes me, I'm just supposed to give up?" Wes frowned, crossing his skinny, freckled arms over his chest. "Somebody has to know that Danny Fenton is Danny Phantom, I mean come on, it's obvious!"

"But if you tell the Guys in White, even if they don't believe you, they'll investigate him, and who knows what they'll do," Kwan pointed out. "Hasn't Danny been through enough? I mean," Kwan glanced around and lowered his voice before adding, "he died. Do you really want to make things harder on him after that? Don't you think he deserves a break?"

"Exactly," Wes hissed. "He died. He's a ghost. Ghosts are bad—and why are we whispering?" he added at a normal volume.

"You know that's not true," Kwan argued, keeping his voice low, despite Wes' complaint. "Phantom protects us."

"From ghosts that come through a portal he opened!"

Kwan flinched. Saying Danny had opened the portal was kind of misrepresenting the reality of the situation. Sam and Tucker had reluctantly told the story of Danny's death in the weeks he was gone, and it had been spread around pretty thoroughly before he came back. Everyone at school knew that he'd stepped into that portal and been completely fried. The portal turning on wasn't the part most people focused on when it was always immediately followed by 'while Danny was inside it'.

"I don't think you can blame him for that," Kwan said. "It was an accident."

"One that has yet to be corrected," Wes replied, his anger not fading. "Him fighting the ghosts doesn't stop them from attacking. If he really wanted to protect the town, he'd destroy the portal and stay in the Ghost Zone."

"What about the Fentons?"

"Who cares if the Fentons lose their precious portal when it's endangering thousands of lives!?"

"And you don't care if they lose their son, either?" Kwan demanded.

"So you do believe me!"

"You're a dick, Weston." He'd never called anyone a dick before in his life, but it seemed to apply here. "I don't care what you think, but if you try to hawk your theories on any of the ghost hunters around town, I'll make you regret it, and I'll bring friends, too. I've got a lot of them."

To drive home his point, Kwan shoved Wes against the lockers and glared before walking away. Gosh, that was so aggressive. Kwan hoped it had been okay. He didn't like doing it—he didn't even know if his face could hold that expression long enough to intimidate anyone—but if it kept Danny safe, that was what mattered.

At least Dash would probably be proud of him for it. Dash was always saying he needed to be more assertive to people couldn't push him around. Metaphorically, of course. Literally, Kwan was six feet tall and 190 pounds, even as a freshman, so there weren't many people who could physically push him around as it was. He didn't join the football team for no reason.

Thankfully, it did seem to work. Kwan had his friends—and he did indeed have a lot of friends, since he was a very friendly and likable guy—keep an eye on Wes until the outside ghost hunters declared the hunt a bust and skipped town. He didn't know whether Wes had noticed or not, but either way, he hadn't tried to expose Danny to them again.

Too bad that didn't last. A few weeks later, Wes went directly to the Fentons.

"No one else will believe me, but your son is a ghost!" Wes told them. "He's Danny Phantom!"

Jack and Maddie both froze. They knew.

They knew, and they had both agreed to pretend they didn't. They shot at Phantom, always aiming a mile wide, and shouted threats, and loudly declared their hatred for ghosts. They knew how it made Danny feel, but they also knew he still loved them. They were willing to do whatever it took to keep their son around, and they feared that if he were ever to tell them he was a ghost, it would be because he was moving on and they'd never see him again.

"Why... that's ridiculous, my boy!" Jack declared, a slight waver in his booming voice. "Our son can't be a ghost!"

"But it's true!" Wes insisted.

"Don't be silly!" Maddie cut him off before he could start listing evidence. She knew all the evidence. "I think we'd know if there was a ghost living under our own roof."

"But—"

"You should keep your utterly ridiculous theories to yourself, because you sound absurd," Maddie said. "Now, if you don't mind, my husband and I have very important ghost hunting to get to. Don't you have homework to do or something?"

Wes growled and clenched his fists in frustration but left them alone nonetheless. Clearly, he wasn't getting anywhere with him. And he wasn't getting anywhere at school, to the point where Danny had stopped getting anxious and had started openly antagonizing him about it. Didn't anyone else in Amity Park have eyes, he wondered.

But in truth, he was the one not seeing, because he didn't see that everyone else was on the same page about Danny being a ghost, and he was the one being left behind.

"Hey, Wes-toenail!"

Wes rolled his eyes as Dash stormed up to him with a disappointed-looking Kwan in tow.

"Jazz Fenton told Sam Manson, who told Kwan, who told me, that you tried to tell Fenton's parents about your stupid conspiracy theory!" Dash sneered at him.

"It's not a conspiracy theory," Wes said. "There would have to be more than just one person involved for it to be a conspiracy theory. A conspiracy theory would be like if I claimed everyone in town was working together to hide the fact that Fenton is Phantom," he was too busy rolling his eyes again to notice the look Kwan and Dash gave each other, "but you're not, you're all just a bunch of sheep."

"And you're a... a..." Dash struggled, grasping around his thick head for a comeback.

"A blackberry bramble!" Kwan finished for him.

"A blackberry bramble!" Dash repeated firmly, then turned to Kwan with a confused look. "A blackberry bramble?" he repeated again, this time questioningly.

"Prickly, invasive, and impossible to get rid of," Kwan explained. "Sam and I also talked about her garden."

"Oh, that's nice," Dash then turned back to Wes, hardened his expression and said. "You're like a blackberry bramble, and no one wants you around."

Wes raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Why do you even care? I thought you hated Fenton."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want him dead again," Dash pointed out. "His parents are ghost hunters, and they're always shooting at Phantom. What do you think they might do to Danny if they actually believed your bullshit theory?"

"Get rid of him! Because he's a ghost! You know, the creatures constantly attacking our town and putting us all in danger?"

"The fact that you actually seem to believe that is why nobody at school likes you," Dash told him plainly. "That, and your general annoyingness."

"Why do you all care so much about protecting a loser like Danny Fenton?!" Wes shouted, loudly enough that it attracted the attention of everyone else in the hallway not already listening, and he threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "So he died, so what? It's the fact that he's still around that's the problem. Everyone seems to agree that they want ghosts gone until I bring up Phantom. A ghost is a ghost is a ghost, and all ghosts are dangerous, even the quote-unquote 'good ones.'"

He was breathing heavily when he finished his outburst, and suddenly aware of at least a dozen sets of eyes on him.

"That's enough, Wes," Kwan said after a beat. "Danny hasn't done anything to you, or anyone, and it's not fair for you to keep doing this, trying to expose him or... or whatever it is you're trying to do. You'd better cut it out. If this is a joke, no one's laughing, and if you're serious, then you're trying to take a real person away from his friends and family because of your own biases, and that's messed up, dude."

"Yeah!" someone down the hallway piped up. Micah, Wes thought her name was. She'd spit on his shoes when he tried to convince her of his theory.

"Enough is enough!" her friend agreed.

"You lay off Danny, he's already been through it this year already!"

Soon enough, every student in the hallway was chiming in their agreement, and Wes scanned the crowd, mouth agape, offended and outraged. When he turned back to Dash and Kwan, they both wore hard expressions. It looked weird on Kwan's usually jovial face, but it was clear they meant business.

"Whatever," Wes grumbled. He grabbed his math book out of his locker and slammed the door shut with a metallic bang. "You've made your point. I'll stop."

"Will you actually?" Dash insisted, raising a skeptical brow. "Or are you just saying that to get us off your back?"

"I will," Wes confirmed. "I don't need the entire football team and then some making my life a living hell. As long as Fenton keeps his distance from me, I'll do the same for him."

The warning was passed from Kwan, to Sam, to Danny, and in short order, Danny and Wes started avoiding each other. They barely so much as crossed paths anymore. Wes, begrudgingly, stopped trying to expose Danny, and Danny stopped teasing him for his failures, and it finally seemed like Amity Park's ghostly hero could go on protecting the town in peace.

But things weren't always what they seemed, and one day, there was a fight. At first, it seemed like a standard ghost fight, Danny Phantom versus some vampire-looking asshole.

Based on the banter, it sounded like this wasn't their first encounter with each other, so the civilians of Amity Park tried their best to stay out of the way and let Danny do his thing. Parents calling their kids inside, the group of teens passing by ducked into the alley, the one riding the opposite way on his skateboard crossed the street to hide with them, safety in numbers and all that.

Then the tide of battle turned, and all of the sudden, Danny was losing, badly. The enemy ghost had started coming at him with powerful blasts that broke through his defenses and left him reeling. Danny howled as he hit the street, hard, and in a flash of white light, his appearance changed from hero to dweeb, and regular old Danny Fenton laid unconscious in the road.

"You can never truly best me, Daniel," the enemy ghost said, but he didn't have time to monologue.

The teens in the alleyway had a plan, and they were coming to the rescue.

Sam Manson somersaulted into the street, Fenton Wrist Ray™ already armed and at the ready, and she laid down cover fire at the enemy ghost while Dash and Kwan ran out to grab Danny and drag him to the alleyway where they'd been taking cover.

"Guess you can't tell me I'm crazy now," Wes said, smirking triumphantly as the two jocks put Danny down gently on the ground, propping his head up on Paulina's folded up jacket. "We all saw him turn into Fenton, that's proof."

"Will you shut up, Wes?" Paulina snapped while Star checked Danny over, trying to assess his injuries. "We knew that already."

"What do you mean you knew?"

"Everyone knew, the whole time," Paulina reiterated with a derogatory scowl. "It's like, super obvious."

"Then why did you all treat me like I was crazy?" Wes demanded.

"Because you are," Star said. "Not 'cause you think he's a ghost—because, like, duh—but 'cause you kept trying to tell everyone. Some things should stay secret you moron."

"Why you even wanted to constantly remind the dead kid that he's dead, I'll never know," Paulina added.

"Plus, you constantly trying to expose him was putting him in danger," Kwan said. "Phantom is a hero, and you were trying to get him killed."

"He's already dead!"

"Yeah, we know," Sam jeered at him as she returned to their cover. "Everyone knows. But you're the only person in the whole town who's being a dick about it!"

"Hey, that's the same thing I told him a couple months ago!" Kwan told her, delighted. "I never called someone a dick before, but I did, 'cause he was being one."

"Good job calling him out, Kwan," Sam said, sounding genuinely satisfied. "It's good to hear that you're being more assertive and standing up for yourself and others."

"That's what I said, too!" Dash noted. "God, it's so weird that I actually agree with you on stuff now."

"Can we get back to the fact that you guys all knew the whole time that Fenton was a ghost and nobody thought to clue me in?" Wes said, looking around at the rest of them incredulously.

"Clue you in the Danny was a ghost?" Sam asked sardonically. "I thought you knew."

"No, that it was apparently common knowledge and you all just felt like making a fool out of me!"

"You wouldn't have looked like a fool if you'd just kept your fool mouth shut," Paulina pointed out.

"You—"

Wes was cut off when Danny groaned into wakefulness and everyone's attention instantly snapped to the ghost boy.

"Mn... ugh," Danny took a shaky breath and blinked his eyes open, quickly widening in shock when he realized how many people were leaning over him. "Uh... hello, citizens," he said, putting on a voice in the hopes they wouldn't recognize them. "Please, step back and stay away from the—"

"Danny," Sam said, "You changed."

"Huh?" He looked down at his hand and gasped. "I mean, I have an explanation for this. I was uh... being overshadowed?"

"It's okay, dude," Kwan told him. "We're not going to tell anyone. This'll be our little secret. Right, Wes?"

They all looked pointedly at the redhead, who opened his mouth to protest, and closed it again, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Yeah, okay," he relented, though his left eyebrow was nevertheless twitching in irritation. "Our secret."

"We just wanted to get you out of the line of fire before Plasmius took things too far," Sam told him. "You know I've always got your back."

"Thanks," Danny said. "All of you."

They gave him their smiles and their 'you're welcome's while Wes griped and grumbled and left the alleyway with his bike to finish riding home. Plasmius had flown off shortly after Sam started shooting at him. He was content in his victory over Phantom, and didn't feel the need to fight a powerless child like her, so the coast was clear for the rest of them to leave as well.

Sam said goodbye to Kwan so she could walk Danny home while the rest of them resumed their walk to the mall. Sam had been planning to split off before they got their anyway, she was just taking the opportunity to chat with them—mostly Kwan, whom she'd accidentally befriended during Danny's brief stint of popularity earlier in the year (his 'goth' poetry was awful, but they'd bonded over gardening and a love of animals)—since her house was on the way.

"You gonna be okay, Danny?" she asked, as they walked arm in arm so she could catch him if he stumbled. "You don't have a concussion, do you?"

"Maybe?" Danny said, squinting uncertainly. He shrugged. "I'll be fine. I always am. I'm still just amazed how lucky it was that the A-listers and Wes, of all people, were willing to keep my secret. It's gonna be all over the school, tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Oh, I don't know," Sam said vaguely. "Kwan's a decent guy, at least. I'm pretty sure they'll keep their word."

Danny scoffed in disbelief, but didn't voice an argument. The rest of the way to Fenton Works, the chattered about whatever topics came to mind, just to keep Danny from falling asleep in case he did have a concussion, and when Sam dropped him off at home, she held off her mournful expression until she had turned away so Danny didn't have to see it.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Not How His Monday Was Supposed to Go

Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

The new Wayne Enterprises board member has had enough of Bruce’s shit.

Warnings: Bruce is a bit of an asshole and a pig, mention of a family member needing surgery, swearing, reader is a girlboss, Bruce is low-key a sub, implied smut

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

When you agreed to act as your father’s representative for Wayne Enterprises as he recovered from surgery, you certainly weren’t expecting the CEO of the company to stroll in three hours late, dark purple bruises littering his muscular neck, dark shades perched on the end of his nose, suit and hair ruffled. 

You huffed as he crumpled into the stupidly expensive chair at the head of the table, only four seats down from you. You had to admit he was a very handsome man, with broad shoulders and dark hair that seemed to curl perfectly around his sculpted face. He gave an air of intimidation but his bright blue eyes made him seem approachable. “So what’d I miss?”

And suddenly your attraction to the man was gone.

Every meeting that followed, Bruce would strut into the room several hours late, one time he was already there when everyone arrived but he was asleep and still wearing the same clothes as the day before. Most times, he wouldn’t even show up, but when he did, he wouldn’t contribute anything meaningful to the conversation, simply giving generic anecdotes that related to the women he had seduced.

The most aggravating thing was, you knew how intelligent he could be. Sometimes it would just slip out. He would say something profound and incredibly smart but he would quickly catch himself and wave it off with some half-hearted comment like “or whatever the senator told me last night. Though I could have heard her wrong, her mouth was quite full”. It irked you to no end, especially being the only woman serving on the board.

As the weeks dragged on and your father’s health was improving, your own mental health was going completely downhill and by the time your last day arrived, you were done with this alpha male bullshit that Bruce loved to instigate. So, as your final meeting ended, which Bruce conveniently didn’t attend, you stormed off, ready to give the man a piece of your mind.

Your heels clacked on the polished floor leading to the massive corner office he had claimed for himself. As you neared the huge dark gray doors, you paused for a moment, pulling down your pencil skinny so it sat lower down your plump thighs instead of bunching up, and making sure you didn’t have any of those dreaded button gaps around your considerable bust. 

Taking in one last deep breath, trying to will yourself not to straggle the man right as you saw him, you gave a firm knock to the door and walked in. 

Your boss was hunched over his desk, intently staring at what appeared to be blueprints. His dark Armani suit jacket was off and hanging over the back of his chair, leaving him in only a white button-up that stretched across the bulk of his muscles. 

“Mr Wayne.” He glanced up from his work and a brief look of shock flashed across his face before he steeled his expression once more.

He muttered your name as he pushed his work to the side. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” The words were polite but his tone was anything but. He sounded like a typical frat boy who felt entitled to your attentions and affections. Your face fell into a scowl.

The door shut behind you with a slam, but you did not flinch. “Mr Wayne, this visit will be anything except a pleasure.” You strode forward with all the confidence in the world, anger swirling around you. “I have sat in that boardroom for weeks watching as you indulged men far below your moral and social standing. You have let them run wild, making a fool out of not only themselves but of you and your business.”

Bruce sat back in his chair, eyes wide as he watched you get closer and closer. “And I have had enough. I can see right through you Mr Wayne. You’re a smart man, you’re compassionate and generous, and yet you still act like these worms, pretend to be like them for some dumbass reason.”

You planted your hands onto his desk and loomed over the CEO. “So no matter what you do outside of this office that might redeem your flimsy character, you still let shit like this happen here and that makes you just as bad as those little boys. Fuck you Mr Wayne. Next time I see you, I will kick you in the nuts so hard your kids will feel it.”

And with that you turned and strode out like a conquering hero before realising you forgot something. You stuck your head back into his office. “Oh and go to all your meetings like a goddamn adult.” The door slammed shut on a bewildered looking Bruce who’s pants suddenly seemed a couple sizes too small.

“Wait wait wait. So the first time mom talked to you she cussed you out and threatened to assault you!” Tim exclaimed, eyes wide with shock. Dick and Jason seemed both amused and disgusted while Damian just looked at his father with immeasurable disappointment. Bruce smirked as he watched his boys have a simultaneous meltdown. The question had been a simple one, how did their parents meet, but it seems like they weren’t ready for the answer

“Yep.” He said proudly. “And let me tell you, it was the sexiest thing she’s ever done.”

“Ugh!”

“Gross!”

“Y’all are nasty!”

“Don’t talk about our mother like that!” They all screamed at once and, like usual, came to protect your honour. But Bruce just chuckled.

“She was a powerful woman, what can I say?” 

“Was?” You cooed suddenly over his shoulder. “Who’s the one running Wayne Enterprises now?” Your sharp nails dragged along the skin top of his chest where his tight shirt didn’t cover. He shivered under your touch, his entire body going to mush.

You looked up from your now boneless husband to your sons. “Your father was a real piece of work when I first met him but I fixed him up real good.” You purred and pressed the tips of your nails into his skin.

Jason was the first to break, surprisingly. “Jesus Christ!” He cried out, slapping his hands over his ears. Then, they toppled like dominos.

Dick was positively green, Tim had a vein in his neck that looked like it was about to burst and Damian was glaring at the floor. “Go on boys, get out of here before I teach your father another lesson.” In a collective pile, they tumbled from the room, scrambling to get as far away as possible.

Bruce turned swiftly as soon as the boys were out of earshot and grabbed your hips to tug you down onto the chair with him. “Come on, Mrs Wayne, tell me how bad I’ve been.”

Request: Meets her at Wayne Co, she’s a new board member and have a few words for playboy Bruce who misses many meetings

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[guyfieriii]

Get Us Strung

We're back to our regularly scheduled programming with another angst-y piece. Inspired by the song Dirty Love by Mt. Joy comes the tale of John Price and his best friend. My apologies if it seems a bit disconnected, it was originally much larger but I decided to scrap a lot of it (See? I can be nice sometimes.), but I tried my best. Also, this was edited on pure audaciousness, a bottle of wine, and a pitcher of margaritas. Do with that what you will.

Lastly, the biggest thank you to @mvtthewmurdvck for once again tolerating me bombarding her with snippets galore and supporting me as she always does.

(Can we consider this as a somewhat happy ending? My original one was A LOT worse.)

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Warnings: Explicit Sexual Scenes and a gallon of pain :)

Nostalgia is a cruel consonance of sentimentality and longing. A honeyed trap you could easily get caught in if you aren’t careful. 

You weren’t. 

All it took was one precarious step forth into its birdlime confines and you’re stuck, forever adhered to moments gone by. Try as you might to break free, to rid yourself of the persistent fog that looms and live in the present — you’re simply unable. The struggle of it brands ropes into your skin. A chemical burn that scabs eventually, but it leaves you debilitated of every ounce of strength you have to leave. 

With time, you make do. 

You adjust to the circumstances you’ve found yourself in. It’s easy enough — to simply give in. It’s like the call of a warm bed on a cold winter morning. The arms of a man you love held open in an invitation. It’s the perfect balm to your stinging disappointments and embittered thoughts. 

Witness, reminisce — rinse and repeat. 

A moment here. An admission of love there, just not the right kind. Not enough to keep you satisfied, just enough you keep you—

There. Still. Stuck in time. Recycling the same out-of-date echoes through your trench of despondency till they fossilize. 

It’s his eyes that do you in, really. Lapis set in moonstone white reminding you of the ebb and flow of deep ocean currents that gently coax you inwards to drift among the waves. 

They were the first thing you noticed about him. 

A skinny kneed boy of eleven, head full of bistre-brown hair, and the bluest eyes you ever saw that suddenly wanted to be your friend. He was loud and brutish in contrast with your more reluctant and constrained demeanour and yet—

He was your best friend. Your first. Your only. 

Is your best friend. 

Five years later, he left to join the infantry. 

He departed, eager to prove his worth. While you stayed back with a poor facsimile of a supportive smile as he promised his eventual return. 

I’ll be back on leave before you know it.

But—

I’ll be back. 

And I’ll be here. 

You clung to him when he told you he was enlisting, fingers curling into the sleeves his Fleetwood Mac t-shirt — a gift from you for his fifteenth. He’d asked if you wanted to keep it, as a reminder of him.

Wouldn’t need to if you just stayed, Johnny. 

In the fortnight leading up to his departure, you prayed for a last-minute change of his mind. Maybe the realization that he couldn’t stay without you would finally come to the surface. 

It had to. Eventually. 

You couldn’t bear the thought of walking up the morning after he left, just missing a part of you. Feeling a crater right in the middle of your chest grow wider and deeper as the distance between you and him extended. 

But as the days counted down, his excitement grew nearly as fast as your despair. 

It began with you pulling out all the stops, reminding him of the comforts of home, of you. To him, it was only the perfect gift farewell. 

It wasn’t until just the day before that you decided to take the cheap shot and just beg.

Don’t leave. Just— please just stay, okay? You don’t have to go. You don’t have to leave me— please, Johnny. I can’t—

He stood at an arm’s length and listened to you in silence, watched you scrounge every ounce of emotional ammunition you could, until your voice ran hoarse, and your tears ran dry. 

The pained expression that your outburst gradually chiseled onto his face left you shamelessly hopeful, and you took a step forward to close the distance between you and him. 

He wordlessly took a step back.

The time slowed, and the seconds hemorrhaged until he finally spoke. 

All he responded with was—

I have to. 

You saw him standing out on my pavement by your house the next morning, walking across the same yard over and over. He’d glance upward at your window every now and then in such excruciating hope that you might grace him with something as simple as a wave goodbye. 

But you didn’t. You simply stood there, watching from the shadows, trying to find some relief in tears shed, but you came up dry. 

And he left. 

When he returned, he came as Private Johnathan Price. 

Nearly half a foot taller since you saw him last. Mostly the same in disposition if only a bit more self-assured. 

In the 18 months of his absence, all you had was a shoebox full of unopened letters and that chasm left behind that grew deeper, still. Every week, unquestioningly, there’d be an envelope addressed to you. And every week, you’d hold it with measured trepidation and excitement. The first one brought you relief to know that you hadn’t lost him in your near ruinous parting of ways. But as you felt the weight of it in your hands, your fingers prudently tracing the ink, you couldn’t bring yourself to read what lay inside. It felt it would be ripping the bandaging off of a wound that had barely begun to heal. 

So, you kept it aside.  

18 months. 72 weeks. Every corresponding letter that followed underwent the same approach. You held them, appreciated them for their infallible arrival, and locked them away with repentance as the pile grew.  

The letter that followed, came hand-delivered. 

“You could have written back at least once, y’know.” He says with a smile. 

“I’m—”

Sorry, Johnny. Forgive me. Forgive me. Please—

Your ensuing apology dies at your lips, and you nearly suffocate under the weight of it until—

“It’s okay.” He promises.

“It’s not.” You assert back.

His gaze softens and he tries again. “Hurt ya when I left, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“So, it’s okay.”

He means to placate. You know this and an infinitesimal part of you appreciates it. But what takes more prominence is one blazing question left behind.

It blisters and leaves behind the blackened soot of your unmatched expectations. A skeletal impression of his well intended albeit anticlimactic confession. 

All you’re left wondering is—

Why didn’t it hurt you to leave me, too? 

You met him in London to celebrate your collective 21st birthdays some time halfway in between them. 

It took some coordination, between your school and his training in Sandhurst. He never told you — said he wanted to keep you detached from that part of his life. 

How’re the— I don’t know what to ask, John. You never tell me anything. 

I tell you plenty. 

He does well— his mother informed you as much. But the details remained vacant. You try to fill in the blanks, hazard a guess — a poor approximation of the real thing, you’re certain. 

It wasn’t something you liked, but never fought him on it. It felt as though your paths diverged at too steep of an angle and you were the only one trying to get them to realign. He seemed content in this compartmentalization, while you worried your margin in it would grow smaller still. 

The disconnect it created left you unsettled. Like a trail down the woods that suddenly ends midway. You’re disoriented and unanchored, forever caught in an abridged narrative with his part missing. 

But you couldn’t keep waiting around—

Something you tell yourself to make it better. 

“Didn’t bring him with you, then?” He slides a glass of ale across the table to you, the bottom of it catching on the adherent buildup of many a spilled drink, causing the foam at the top to dribble over. 

“You asked me not to, John.” You mutter, indignant. 

You wouldn’t have asked to begin with, but for appearances sake—

“Didn’t want to have to share you with some other bloke, is all.” His self-satisfied grin tells you he sees right through it. 

The implications that simmered beneath that statement cut through you instantly. 

He didn’t want to have to share. 

What would happen if you told him that it was never even brought to question? That you were his, and his alone. 

Would he make it come true? 

Would he—

“I’d like for you to meet him eventually, y’know.” You opted for a safer route. Something more dependable. Everything John isn’t. 

That’s a lie. He’s nothing but. 

“If he stays around long enough.”

“Johnny.” You snap, irritably.

“Been a while since you called me that.” He murmurs, his grin slipping into something less presumptuous and more unshielded. Vulnerable. 

“We’re not kids anymore.” You turn your gaze downward, nails digging into the chipping laminate on the cheap bar top until he flicks the side of your palm to make you stop. 

“No, we’re not.” It’s his tone that makes you look back up— hinting at some kind of unspoken understanding that you recognize right away. 

Let’s not pretend, then.

It’s in the dimming obscurity of alcohol when it finally happens. With your dress hiked up over the curve of your ass, and panties pulled to the side — he fucked you in a rush, outside in the cold fall air. The grain of the brick wall scratched your cheek with every thrust he buried himself in you. His ale-laden breath at the cusp of your ear, his hands cupping your breasts, squeezing — they were your only source of warmth.  

“Fuckin’ hell, I’ve wanted to—” He confessed.

“So have I, Johnny.” You matched his revelation with your own. 

But this wasn’t how it was supposed to—

You’ll take what you’re given. Even if it’s just this once, just tonight. A fleeting taste is better than the fantasy of him you’ve held on to. 

He’s better than what you’ve had in the past. Better than what you’d thought he’d be like. 

Or maybe, it’s just how well knows you. 

He knows how deep you need to feel him, no matter if it hurts just a little. It’s the kind of hurt you enjoy. 

How many women have you been with, John? 

Does it matter?

Yes. No. Maybe? 

It was you that crossed the line. A temerarious lapse in judgment, a flick of a wrist that knocked down an already precipitous house of cards when suddenly your lips descend upon his. He tastes of stale beer and the cigarette you bummed off an old man at the pub. With a grunt of surprise, he reciprocates, his tongue invading past your lips. 

In a flash of somewhat sloppy adjustment, your back remained firmly pressed against the brick wall of the side of the pub, while his hands to the side of you effectively cage you in. 

It’s not soon after that he takes the reins.

His mouth is everywhere — your lips, glossing over your jaw to the underside while he firmly grasps a fistful of your hair at the root, tilting your face upwards. He lays siege to the delicate column of your neck, armed with a stinging bite and the consolatory swipe of his tongue after. 

John. Johnny.

The straps of your top hang loosely off your shoulders as he pulls the front of it down haphazardly to latch on to your nipple. You helplessly mewl beneath him, fingers trembling as they undo the buckle of his belt. 

“Tell me to stop, love. Tell me, or I’ll—” He groans. Your hands sink in past the zipper to palm his erection. Warm. Solid. 

“Please, don't.” You sink to your knees with the excitement, the need to taste him chafing at your rib cage with every beat of your heart. 

“Fuck— fuck, okay. Just slow down—”

“John. Please.” 

“I’ll make it good, yeah? For you. I will.” He swears. 

I know you will. 

You moved to Liverpool a year later. Something about staying in Hereford without him just kept you trapped in a state of inertia. Spending your time waiting more than anything else. It was time to move on. 

Or try to, at any rate.

Humble beginnings for you — a modest apartment, a job that paid the bills and nothing else. 

You settled into a routine — oscillating between work, home, and bisected friendships that you formed. 

It’s not the same. It’s not the same. 

It’s hard not to hold him somewhat accountable for your perpetual state of futility. There’s an essence of banality that follows you wherever you go. A life lived in half measures, mediocre and prosaic. It isn’t fair, and yet—

Why couldn’t you just stay, John? 

It’s usually at night when the bitter tendrils of your regret slink up your limbs, like stalks of Golden Pothos, that collect around neck and squeeze. 

A fire that kindles all too easily.

Can you even call it your own, when it’s caused by the choices of another?

It’s when you think back to that night in London, the weight of his cock in the palm of your hand— the way his eyes pinched shut and his head tilted back as you attempted to take him all the way in. 

“Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?” He’d asked in a choked groan. 

Had the head of his cock not been pressed against the back of your throat you’d have answered with:

Upset you weren’t the one to teach me, aren’t you Johnny?

Whatever remnants of that night that weren’t washed away by the glassy comber of one drink too many, replayed themselves a hundred times over. Every reiteration leaves you breathless and wanting — the evidence of it clearly shining on the inside of your thighs and the tips of your fingers. 

Until—

A knock. 

“You moved.” His voice was weight down by many an unspoken accusation. 

“I did.” There’s no point in an apology— he’s here now.

“You never said.” Anger. Hurt. Betrayal — all in coalescence that lacerates you so deeply, you might stain the walls blood red. 

“I— Do you want to come in—?” 

He walked across the threshold, brushing past your shoulder before you even finished inviting him in.

“You— it’s not much. I’ve only just—” You stumble your way through some kind of explanation as he sheds himself off his duffel and coat. Any reasoning you were able to muster trickles back down your throat as he makes himself comfortable on your sofa, the floral embellished cushion sinking under the weight of him like it’s his right to be. 

“It’s nice.”

You’d have expected him to feel out of sorts in this new home of yours, but he finds his place in it so naturally it fucking stings. 

It really could have been that easy— a life with him. It’s a dangerous thought experiment but you wonder if he also aches for that near miss of a surrogate life. A peripeteia of decisions that might have led you down a different path entirely. 

“How long are you on leave this time?” It’s a jibe and he notices. There’s an unmistakable clench in his jaw, a steely look set in his eyes at your question like he’s willing you to challenge him. 

You almost do. 

Good of you to waltz by after a year, Johnny. I’ve been waiting. 

You really have. 

“Two weeks. If you’ll have me.”

You considered turning him away simply out of spite. A laughable thought, really. An egomaniacal deliberation you pretend to have. 

You’d never—

“Aren’t you going home?” 

Don’t say yes. Please, don’t say yes.

“Would’ve — yeah. But you moved.”

Fuck. Don’t—

“You make it sound like I’m the only reason you come back.”

The words decamp themselves from you without any realization. Subdued embers relight themselves. Veiled desires now unwrapped — a festering infection that itched beneath near-mended dermis now touching air simply because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. 

“Would— would it be so bad if I said yes?” He asks, wavering slightly in his footing only to gauge your reaction, and you pray you’re not giving anything away. 

Yes. Yes, it fucking would, John. Because—

It means nothing in the scheme of its payoff. You don’t know what he expects, because to you his disclosure only exacerbates the acridity of his absence tenfold. It makes his eventual departure seem like a harsher slap to the face. 

You could accuse him of pretense. Tell him how hollow it makes you feel.

Or simply—

“No. Of course not.” You lie with a smile, instead. 

He believes you. 

His parents pass within a year of each other. He attends both funerals in uniform — having only singular days granted to him in lieu of bereavement. 

It might have been a personal choice in his father’s case, which happened to be the latter. 

The first was an open casket, the second closed — both lowered into the ground while his hand firmly grasped yours. 

And after—

On both days, he found himself buried in you, however in polar opposite ways. 

It began gentle, with his need to be held and your need to oblige. You straddle him in the backseat of your busted-up Mondeo Estate, soaking in his silent grief as you whisper condolences. He finds his home in the crook of your neck, bedewed with the warmth of his breath and his tears. 

He tastes of grief. 

Regret, even. 

Maybe, one day, you’ll tell him it didn’t have to be that way.

Imagine what we could’ve been, John. 

Only seven months later, you find yourself in circumstances alike only in one solitary way. This time, it’s his anger that transcends the grief. You’re turned away, bent over the disjointed desk in the corner of his childhood bedroom. His fingers etching your skin in a mosaic of blue and purple, willing you to acquiesce to his baser instinct rather than envelop him in comfort. He fucked you, brutally — bare teeth, white knuckles. A lacquer of vitriol to coat you in. Only apologetic in the aftermath. 

And—

He wouldn’t let you kiss him. 

Change is a weight borne poorly by most relationships. 

You try to blame the distance between his visits, and the fact that he always seems more worse for wear than the last. A chronic transformation with every visit, like rust on iron — sandstone shaded corrosion bleeding into his edges. 

He tries to shed himself of it when he’s in your company but it’s ever-present, like a phantom limb. An undeniable extension of himself. 

You tell him not to pretend. 

Not with me, John.

You might as well be white noise. 

What started out as concern he’d brush off with a ‘this isn’t something you need to be worrying about, love’ slowly evolved into disregard which concluded with blatant contempt.  

This isn’t what I—

He stopped himself a moment too late. 

“This isn’t what I came back for.”

“Glad we’re both disappointments to each other.”

Finally, some truth spilled out. It felt oddly cathartic, even if it meant having your worst fears confirmed. 

He makes an implicit plea to retract what’s been said, undo the hurt caused, and return to your perpetual state of synthetic decorum. Two people who tip-toe around each other, chat about the weather, and when all redundancies are through and done with—

Let’s just leave it be. Dinner’s nearly—

He feasts on your cunt like a man starved. 

It’s funny how rarely you consider the sheer probability of his safe return. Is it simply denial? Is he so deeply rooted within your being that imagining him not being there isn’t an ending you can enumerate? 

To you, there is simply no finality to John Price. Forever seems like a paltry presumption to have in his line of work and yet, you can never imagine the alternative. 

You’ve tried. You even asked him once.

Just once. 

“You’ll be informed if— I — they know you’re my— you’ll be informed.” He spoke with such unambiguous apathy like he was reading it off a manual. 

Ten different ways to prepare your loved ones for your eventual demise. 

“I’ll be informed?” This isn’t the hill to die on, but you just can’t help yourself. 

“I don’t know how else to—”

“I’m glad to know I’ll have the privileges of being your widow without you having to marry me, John.”

He recoils away like you just struck him. 

It was an unscrupulous remark to make. Atonement is futile, he’d see right through it. All you can do is wait for the dust to settle and carry on. 

But he— 

“I’d marry you tomorrow if I thought it would fix things.” 

It wouldn’t. 

Some things are just predestined to remain broken, you suppose. 

“I know you would.”

You find yourself at an impasse. Anyone pragmatic might think to cut their losses and retreat. Start anew. 

That’s just not who you are. 

You find other ways to meet each other halfway, on an equal plane of vulnerability and certitude. Nothing to hide behind in the arms of one another. There are shared breaths, harmonies of impassioned confessions and you find yourselves in the other once more. 

You shed the pain you wear like a second skin, disrobed in ways both actual and metaphorical. 

He’s kinder and you’re more forgiving. 

He tells you it’s his last night with you for a while and you request your goodbye before the morning. You need something to remain unsoiled. 

He leaves before you wake.

Sometimes, he leaves a note. 

I’ll be back soon, darling.

Empty words. Hollow promises. An interminable echo in a cave that ripples in the subterranean waters you float in.

Except—

I’m doing the best I can. 

And that’s enough. 

[sissyfaggotwhiteboi]

Guide for Black Doms to make white sissy

Found this Guide on another unrelated site;  it describes how to make white bois into sissies for use by Superior Black Masters, and would willingly submit to have this done to me!

This is a guide for Superior Black Men that want to usurp their rights over crossdressing white boys. I will tell you the weaknesses and inner desires of white boys, so that you may more easily enslave and own them. If you want an obedient and addicted white boy, read on.

Submissive WHITE Sissy Faggots Are Eager To Serve As Sissy Maids And Cum Receptacles For SUPERIOR BLACK MEN –  REGISTER HERE TO BE USED BY A SUPERIOR BLACK GOD

1) Getting a real meeting with a boy is the most crucial part of beginning the white boy emasculation.

The rest comes easy and naturally for the sissy boy. Most fantasize about being forced into it. They like the risks and are completely aware that it is a slippery slope. Blackmail and Domination is part of what they want. On some level, they want and feel they deserve to lose their identity as a man and to serve Superior Men. More than anything in the world. Any kind of resistance is just part of what the fantasy; white sissy boys have a desire to be freed from their choice. Younger and not married are more desirable.

Submissive WHITE Sissy Faggots Are Eager To Serve As Sissy Maids And Cum Receptacles For SUPERIOR BLACK MEN –  REGISTER HERE TO BE USED BY A SUPERIOR BLACK GOD

Degrade and humiliate him in your emails. Ask him how small his little pee pee is. Tell him how you will slap his face with Your Superior Cock. You will put him on a leash. Sissy ’s like to hear confirmation they are not real men. Call them a girl. Tell him he has a girly ass. Or if he is skinny, call him petite and effeminate. Ask him if he likes looking at a picture of Your Cock. Give him a female name as a reminder. On the reverse, make him call you Daddy (this is the absolute most humiliating name you can use, but Sir or Master work well too). If he doesn’t, tell him you will punish him. Try and get a phone number or address before he can back out. Always push to meet sooner.

2) Establishing follow up sessions. This is where most sissy boys get away. My greatest advice here is to ask the sissy if you can record and take pictures of him for your personal collection. In the moment, they will tend to say yes and do it. A simple picture of him on his knees sucking your cock could well be the key to his entire enslavement. You only need suggestively say you like the picture and want to send it to his friends if he is reluctant to meet. Record him every time after.

Submissive WHITE Sissy Faggots Are Eager To Serve As Sissy Maids And Cum Receptacles For SUPERIOR BLACK MEN –  REGISTER HERE TO BE USED BY A SUPERIOR BLACK GOD

Chastity is another way. This is better long term and for training. Just like other males, white sissy faggots have that moment of wake-up and sometimes regret when they finally cum. They will do anything before that moment, but can feel like they went to far once cum. Not allowing them to cum will keep them submissive, turned on, and obedient. You can do whatever you want for however long you want. They on some level, even like the denial. They feel trapped and needy to be nice to you.

If they are resistant to this initially, you can keep pushing it, and just put it on them if you can convince them to be tied up. Forgiveness over permission. Use a device that cannot be removed without a key.

During the first meeting, make them cum, be verbal, make them tell you what a bitch they are. Make them promise they will be your sextoym. Make them give you their word they will suck you next week.

3) Training will transform the white sissy into a total, obedient slut. You should not let them cum more than once a week. Suggest tying them up when you let them cum and you take off the device, so they have no say if it comes back on. Prolonging how long they cum will make it more intense and they will have much less chance of regret. You can anally train them to cum without stimulation from their little white penis and eventually to cum without being hard. Google sissy gasm. Teasing around their butt with your fingers will help. The goal is to have them only cum from anal stimulation. If you have to, make them wait another week if they can’t do it without touching their tiny pee pee. Stroke them from behind like a bitch so their cock is pulled behind their legs. If they’re really are unable to cum after two weeks. Also suggest stroking like this the first time you meet them until they cum.

Submissive WHITE Sissy Faggots Are Eager To Serve As Sissy Maids And Cum Receptacles For SUPERIOR BLACK MEN –  REGISTER HERE TO BE USED BY A SUPERIOR BLACK GOD

4) After some time, you may introduce more changes to the white sissy. Changes that cross the “point of no return” will keep a white boy as a sissy longer than anything else. They may resist to these ideas, but you can keep pushing it on them, and on some level they want it more than anything in the world. Ultimately, it is their choice.

Shaving smooth will make a huge difference in how girly the sissy looks. If you are keeping the sissy shaved,, You could eventually encourage the sissy to get laser hair removal.

Another suggestion would be a tramp stamp or other tattoos. Perhaps “sissy slut”, “Emily”, “BBC Owned”. You could have her do a trial with a Henna tattoo or just go all the way. Permanent makeup is another humiliating way to feminize the white sissy.

The final step is the one white sissy boys think about the most. They feel it is their destiny and that is a final step to submitting and giving up their ego for humiliation. Hormones. Two types, anti-androgen and estrogen. Estrogen will have the most effects, such as face breasts, and submissive tendency. Anti androgen will make them more petite, less muscle, and make their tiny pee pees even smaller. You can find more online about it. Whatever you want of them, tell them they need to look pretty and pleasurable for Men. And that they are better off this way. Affirm it is who they are on the inside.

5) Enslaving the sissy is the goal. Establish Dominance and always push the little white boys to say they are inferior. Treat them like a sextoy. Text them you want blowjobs on random days. White sissies should be your on-call fuck toy. Punish them when they are bad. Use chastity to control their rewards. You can do whatever you like, turn them into a live-in maid if you like or a discreet obedient sex slave.

Submissive WHITE Sissy Faggots Are Eager To Serve As Sissy Maids And Cum Receptacles For SUPERIOR BLACK MEN –  REGISTER HERE TO BE USED BY A SUPERIOR BLACK GOD

[door-insurance]

My Life is strange hot takes:-

-I think we should know less about Rachel as a character because imo it was better when everyone had their own interpretations of her, i will forever hate BtS for the mischaracterization of Rachel Amber (and others). You can still show Rachel in game and have her be multilayered and hard to decipher

-never got it when everyone in game and outside hyped up Jefferson’s looks, he looks mid to me- just a white guy wearing skinny jeans and glasses

-Nathan is my least favorite character cause with Jefferson you’re meant to hate him but with Nathan you’re meant to kinda sympathize and I just can’t- he got something I call “infantilized tumblr white boy syndrome”, I always hated how Chloe, Rachel and Victoria got most of the heat from the fandom (and detractors) but never Nathan who did worse. I get it, your dad sucks and you have issues but that doesn’t mean you should go around drugging and killing people, by that logic- Kate marsh should blow the school up

-we all hate d9 writing but never talk about how Dontnod can screw some things up, I never liked how they treated the whole thing with Frank and Rachel- never calling HIM out for sleeping with a girl who was barely legal (I assume they met before she turned 18? In that case, that’s grooming), it’s not that they wrote that in I don’t mind that- it’s how they handled it that gives me the ick

- also constantly mentally whipping Chloe (I’m sorry I don’t like episode 4 it was too melodramatic) and Sean, it borderlines on whump sometimes which I don’t mind in fanfics but outside? Nah.

-i loved lis 1 dialogue it was so ass

-I didn’t hate true colors, I like it more than BtS; I just didn’t like how safe and predictable it was

-I don’t really care if they include Chloe in DE or not or if they canonize bae and bay, I give up on the canon a looong time ago- I just want the depth and grit from LiS 1 back, I just finished Road 96 (great game! Kinda relevant at the moment) for the first time and it left me with the same empty feeling that episode 5: polarized left me with

-in case you couldn’t tell, BtS is my least favorite entry because imo they wasted so much resources ruining continuity, doing character assassinations, adding unnecessary characters (par Steph and Mikey) that we don’t see in LiS 1 when it could’ve just been a 3 episode game about Chloe’s grief and meeting Rachel for the first time- idk why it needed the plot twists and breaking bad sub plot it was hella stupid, let narrative games be a little lowkey sometimes cause you can’t cover everything on a 3 episode dev cycle and budget

[creepydixon]

being a princess with dark!Daryl

my first mlm: Daryl forces a young man to dress up like a girl and humiliate him.

mlm, 18+, forces into dress playing, jerking the other one off, sissy (I think that’s what it is called?), blow job mentioned

• if there is one thing Daryl likes it is men who gets humiliated to the point the man finds pleasure and begs for more

• to make them go on their knees and suck his cock so he can feel some power over them

• you were a new group member, you were quick on your feet, talked back, good with a gun, and what not. And oh, how Daryl dreamt about making you humiliated. To take away a bit of your pride and feel nervous around him.

• right now, you weren’t nervous around Daryl, usually gave him a pat on his shoulder, trying to joke with the grumpy man to see if he had actually some kind of humour.

• but Daryl would give you death glares “don’t tach me,” Daryl would grunt and smack away your hand right away. Narrow his eyes with your attempts of jokes.

• Daryl knew that it was usually hard sometimes to humiliate another man. They fought back, but years of being on the streets, fighting in school, with the neighbours kids, fighting with other that Merle had triggered off made Daryl a capable to take down most of the men.

• on one solo supply mission, Daryl had spotted a costume store. of course it was untouched, no one in apocalypse needed a costume. But Daryl had went inside anyway.

• he spotted a sexual costume, one of those adults costume for Halloween that would make anyone zits their pants if they saw it on a woman.

• a pink too short dress that was princess alike, with white stockings

• Daryl made sure to pack it deepest in his bag

• some weeks goes by. Daryl doesn’t have the need to do his actions right away, he bide his time and think throughly. have to think about how and when to humiliate you.

• Daryl followed the young man to the lake. it was early in the morning. and you had no idea you were followed when you would take your morning swim.

• the cool water takes away the dirt and makes you feel refreshed in the morning. alone time before other people in the group wakes up.

• but when getting up to your towel and clothes, they are gone. “The fuck” you mumbled and try to look through the bushes, around the rock. of course the clothes had to fucking vanish when you took a skinny dip.

• “Lookin’ for sumthin’?” the southern accent caught your attention and your hands went immediately to hide your cock. seeing Daryl standing there with his arms crossed over his chest.

• “Did you take my clothes?” you try to laugh it off, even if you felt a bit nervous, you have tried to joke with Daryl but was this his way of being fun? “Very funny man.”

• “The hell do I wan’ yer clothes for?” Daryl narrowed his eyes. “Probably a deer or a hog took ‘em.”

• of course Daryl lied. he had taken your clothes. making sure you’re in a vulnerable state. Daryl nod up, his chin pointing. “C’mon, my tent is righ’ here. Cover yerself up.”

• you had a hard time to think a deer or a hog had taken your clothes. but Daryl seemed serious about not taking your clothes. and you sure as hell wouldn’t want to risk to go back to the group. so you followed Daryl. “Thanks man, shit, didn’t think animals would be interested in taking clothes.”

• “All animals ‘r unpredictable.” Daryl had put his tent a bit away from the rest of the camp. he opened up the flap and nodded with his head to gesture for you to get inside. which you gladly did.

• it isn’t a lot of stuff in Daryl’s tent. bedroll, his bags, and some few knives and his beloved crossbow. Daryl walked over to his bag. “Thanks man, I really appreciate that you let me borrow some clothes,” you said.

• “Ya say Sir tah me, boy,” Daryl’s voice dripped low. turning around and looked at you who looked slightly confused and surprised. “Right… sorry Sir,” you said low, not trying to make any fuss when you literally stands naked there in front of him.

• Daryl tosses a pink outfit in your way. You furrowed your eyebrows as you caught it and let the outfit fold out when you held it with one hand. a princess outfit. “Ha. Ha. Very funny,” you said dryly.

• “Wha’ makes ya think tha’ this is a joke?” Daryl crossed his arms and obviously he could see the anger and confusion in you. Before you could even say anything, Daryl was quick to pull his knife to your throat, your eyes widening and made you freeze. “Put it on,” Daryl said low to you.

• It was tension in the tent and non of you moved. You could feel the sharp end of the knife on the side of your neck. You swallowed hard and what seemed like an entirety, you held up the outfit and glanced at it. “No underwear?”

• “No underwear,” Daryl repeated. His face were stern and not a sign of mockery, snickering, or anything else. He looked dead serious. He walked with slow steps closer to your right side as you struggled to pull the outfit over your head. It was tight around the chest and the skirt part of the dress didn’t leave anything to the imagination, as your cock wasn’t entirely covered. Your ears were growing red of embarrassment, shame.

• “Well, look at ya, like a good girl,” Daryl said low but you didn’t answer, you looked right ahead. Swallowing hard as Daryl circled you. If it was humiliation Daryl was seeking from you, well, you sure were feeling humiliated right now. Especially when Daryl smacked your hands away from covering your cock.

• “Ya always pissed me off wit’ ya jokes,” Daryl said low and took a step closer. “How ya think we ‘r pals. Ya better start show me some respect.”

• “… I’m sorry, Sir,” you said low, standing there like you were a soldier and got scolded by the highest ranking man in the military. Daryl found it somewhat, entertaining. When you are scared, you act like a military boy and trying not to show any emotions. Daryl’s hand hovered over you cock as he stood close to you, and you had to swallow hard.

• You curse that your body thinks this is a sexual act, you could feel how that sweet tickle grew inside the balls. How your ears turn warmer. You closed your eyes for a few seconds before you inhaled sharply through your mouth as a hiss, feeling Daryl had grabbed your cock.

• “Findin’ this hot?” Daryl whispered close to your face. “Gettin’ hard for wearin’ a frilly dress? Ya surely ‘r different from the other men. They would ‘ave shouted and fought… but ya? Yer getting horny.”

• You didn’t answer. Too ashamed of what your body thought was a sexual act. You tried to steady your breath when you caught yourself how ragged your breath was through your nose and that your cock grew harder in Daryl’s hand. How he started to slowly stroke your growing cock and you closed your eyes, trying to hold in every sound that wanted to escape.

• “Well, time ta learn ya some manners,” Daryl spoke low and gave a firm kick at the side of your knee so you fell forward. Landing on all fours and glanced up at Daryl. “Let’s see wha’ tha’ mouth of yers can do,” Daryl was already unbuckling his pants and you would enter a new part of territory you’ve never experienced before.

[iceprincessviviane]

Last will. - Heritage series prologue.

Paring: poly!BTS (Demons) x Female!Shy!Skinny!Chosen!Reader

Type: dark romance, horror au, soulmate au, poly relationship, slowburn, yandere.

Warnings: Horror themes, some religion themes (mostly demonic), gore, blood, manipulation, witchcraft, magic themes, death (side characters), mentionings of forced marriage, mentioning about past, loss, yandere, obsessive, possessive, swearing, low self-esteem,dealing with grief, sugestive content and silly jokes created by me. (If there is more to add let me know.)

Next chapter.

Summary: When old, lonely lady is dying, some mysteries are revealed, which none is expecting. Someone is going to take advantage of that for sure.

Author's note: It was around Halloween and I was getting inspired and decided to try something in good, old scary mood. I might be not good at it, so sorry! And it's based kinda of my strange dream. Action is supposed to be in northen Canada in make up city, this is how it was in my dream so I will let it stay. Sorry if that has no logic at all. Dream was really strange and first chapters are mostly based on that, rest it just written by me as continuation. Introduction is long and whole mansion is based on one from Tonb Raider series (Legend/Underworld). English isn't my first language so sorry for all mistakes.

Dedication for the @aris-ink meance (angel) which supporter me all the way along and mostly I'm posting because she gave me a wings 💖

MINORS DNI

In modern office was sitting very old and elegant lady. She had old-fashioned dress and her white hair were in tight bun. Fine jewllery was on her neck, same was for wrist and ears. The stones were shinging in light of the lamp. She sat opposite young notary, which was writing somethine with pen on his documents. Dame was visibly getting impatient, her assistant was making meaningful glances at worker, but he didn't even noticed. After few minutes she sighed and tapped her emaciated on light brown desk.

"I am sorry ma'am, it has to be perfect."

She rolled her eyes and looked around. Office was big and bright, outside was raining heavy, wall of water and sometimes the sky was pierced by thunder. There was computer on the other side of the desk and big bookshelf filled by documents and books about the law. On the wall was hanging put some awards and certificates which notary finished successfuly.

"My boy, I am sorry to interrupting you, but in fact I don't have much time. I am going to die very soon and I need to do a lot." Old lady said bitterly.

"I am sorry ma'am." He gave her sympathetic smile and put down pen. "I have ended your last will as you wished."

Notary handed her document. She read it with little frown. It was strange for her, but the time has come and she had to take care of last things in this world.

"I have concated the curator of museum you have mentioned. He is thrilled by your proposition and agreed to all your terms."

"I am glad then. I hope this will do good for next generations." Old lady smiled warmly.

"But there is one problem. Being specific about the mansion in Grand Hillsam." Man said looking at the name of the town.

Immediately old lady's glance became cold and suspicious. "What about it?"

"I have found that in fact it's part of Canadian heritage and it was just under your custody ma'am. It can't be given to any museum or anyone unless the government agree or the owner can't take care of it. I have tried to contact the office in Grand Hillsam and they have sent me to someone higher."

Old lady scoffed and waved her head with annoying expression. She tapped desk again, looked like wanting to light a cigarette.

"But they have stated that, after your death it will become clear what will happen to the mansion. It can't be made into museum if it's not proven that mansion would be left all alone."

"But I wanted to avoid passing it to anyone. That's why I wanted to make museum there and give all historical stuff away as gifts."

"They are very thankful, but your family last will is above that. You were not living there in fact, only someone who lives there can decide about mansion." Young man sighed taking out some documents. "I have searched it very carefuly, but can't do anything about that."

"That's bullshit." She cursed not like a lady. "I have paying all the bills and sending money to take some care of this mansion. I just didn't want to live there." She frowned.

"And as your family stated, only person who lives there can decided to such things as selling or giving up the mansion. After your death your family and far family will be informed about it. If they won't be able to take care of it, it will be made into museum." Notary said shrugging with helplessness.

"But I have no family. That's why I am giving away the money and things."

"Well... that's not true ma'am... the office searched through documents as did I. You have a very distant family, here in Europe."

"But they have been thrown out of my lineage almost three hundred years ago. The testement didn't include them in any case."

"Well... the office in Canada have stated that unless your famil won't care about mansion or simply can't because of money, then yes it will be made into museum."

Old lady sighed slowly, but then nodded. "If it's all, please let me sign it and let's end this farse."

Soon notary handed her all necessary documents. She signed them with diligence. They have left office and her assistant helped her by softly holding arm. He was middle age man, who served her long time. When they were in the car, driver almost immediately pulled into driveway.

"Damnit, it was so close to get rid of this stupid mansion and it's secrets. I am sure they have had their word in this." She said staring at the window and terrible weather.

"So what now? Your distant family will be called to Grand Hillsam that's for sure." Assistant said with worrying tone.

"I will make sure, that they won't want to stay there and will be protected. I need to be at home as fast as possible."

}*{

It was dark outside and was raining almost all time. Week has passed since old lady was in the office. Now she was lying at bed, weak and in fact annoyed. She lighted a cigarette and took a deep breath. Her assistant just left bedroom. It was quite big one, with canopy bed, balcony, big wardrobe and high bookshelf.

"You shouldn't be smoking." Happy voice said with concern.

"I am dying, I can do whatever I want." Old lady's words were horase. "I don't care how I am going to die, I am going to enjoy life till my last breath."

"You are still the same." Green eyes flashed in dim room, just on the bookshelf.

Small, dark as night cat hopped on the floor and made it's way to the bed.

"Thank's God, I was thinking that Harry was making you suspicious." Old lady said bitterly.

"It was hard to make my way here and this form." Cat said and stopped near the bed, that lady could see him.

"I need your owner'a help." She confessed.

"We know. That is why I am here, but don't know the details."

"I wanted to give up the mansion. To get rid of it, make family free. But of course they have stepped in." Old lady frowned with disgust.

"Well it was sure, that it won't be so easy."

"Officials said that until my last family won't be proven that don't want to take care of the mansion or simply can't take care, because of money, there is no way of making of it museum."

"So they even messed with office." Cat said perking it's ears.

"Yes. There is a threat, that all will start again. I have no time to meet my distant family and tell them about our messed up past. Pretty sure that they won't believe me anyway. So you will have to take care of that. They can't stay there and they have to give up this stupid building."

"Well it's not like when the building is gone, all the problems will disappear. The bond will be still there."

"Yes, but the ritual place will be no more, all the knowledge and items will be gone. Some spells will break. Even town might get free from dark influence. It will be hard for them go rebuild that somewhere else.

"I will go and tell my owner about everything." Cat promised and licked it paw. "But now let me keep your company."

Animal jumped on the bed and sit on old lady's lap demanding headpats. She gladly provided them till her hand stopped and last breath left her mouth. Cat purred softly making sure that her soul is safe.

}*{

Namjoon stepped out of the car and looked at building in front of him. He put his hands in the pockets. The gate was closed and strong walls were protecting land inside. It looked old and untreated. Through a gate you could see entrance to the garden and main entrance to the big manor. It was already late, moon poking from behind a clouds made a little light. He walked to the gate and put a hand in shadow place then

walk

through

the

darkness till he reached other side. He did the same with big doors and found himself inside. There was dust, unplesant smell and silence, but he remembered those halls too good. There was big, main space and staircase which were splitting up, leading up and to the left and right where were rooms. Entrance to the basement was also through this room, same as kitchen and second part of the manor. He wasn't alone.

Shadows shifted slighty and into his view came six characters. Wide smile appeard on his handsome face.

"Is thar true hyung? That's why we all are here?"Jimin asked coming closer.

"Better be that or I will throw hands." said Yoongi and leaned on pillar in opposite.

"Our man has confirmed that there is another descendant. They have rejected idea of the museum for now and have stated that it must to be prooven that descendant can't take care of mansion to make it museum." Namjoon has spoken quietly.

"So we have chance to take it all back?" Jungkook's wide and bunny smile appeard.

"Maybe, now they have to brought here this person."

"All right let's go back to the work guys." Jin stated and they all have disappeard in the blink of the eye.

[idesofrevolution]

The Last Possession

Yeah. That’s me. And yeah, I’m not cheap. You can’t afford to look this good workin’ a nine to five every day. Nah. I’m a freelancer. Call me a life coach for those who need some assistance finding who they really are. Sometimes you just need to have a little push in the right direction, eh? Plus, you know I’m the real deal by just lookin’ at this bod. If I do say so myself, I’m pretty damn hot.

Let’s cut to the chase. I take over the bodies of nerds, has-beens, washed ups, losers, and everyone else in between. Over the course of a few days, normally, I change them into exactly what they wanna be. Cocky, sexy, built himbo bad boys. And they pay top dollar for the privilege.

That’s exactly what Michael asked for. For whatever reason, he was unhappy with his pretty okay life. He was a game designer in Seattle, a pretty decent looking otter boy, and well off. I’m not gonna lie, I was on vacation, so I wasn’t too excited to take a job out here in the Bahamas. But the pay grade was just way too good, and I had a nice little vacancy in my bedroom since my twat of an ex dumped me. “Too many good looking guys coming out of the apartment” apparently.

Pssh, what did that fucker know? I brushed whatever dumb scraps of affection I had for him aside, and took the kid’s offer. The dude bought a ticket and flew out to Nassau, and drove to my holiday place. From the picture, I wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He was pretty good looking already!

My clients are usually the old creepers, absentee fathers, and middle aged former jocks. Median age: 40. So, when this guy showed up at my door, looking like an adorable little gamer guy, I couldn’t hold back my curiosity. I handed him a Mai Tai, and we sat by the pool, where I asked him his reasons for wanting a transformation. His reasoning was super simple, and it took my by surprise.

“I just wanna try something new, I guess.” It was no skin off my back if he didn’t think it through. Even if he did, I had doubts he knew the full extent of what my plans were. I asked him about his life back in Seattle, probing to see if he had a family I had to worry about, a dumb bimbo, or anything like that. Nothing. Just his dog. Just how I liked it. The more we talked, the more I started to like this guy. He just really seemed like a cool dude that was a bit… Disillusioned with his life. There was just something about him. I don’t know.

I asked him when he wanted it all to go down, and to my surprise, he shucked his shirt off and turned his back to me. This dude had a majorly casual vibe about the whole thing. I wasn’t sure how to approach it. After a few seconds of really thinking about it, I thought, “Fuck it” and dove right in.

Now to give you some perspective: this guy was like 6′3, where I was like 5′9. He was super skinny too. This was gonna be a tight squeeze, but not anything I hadn’t done before. I placed my hand on his shoulders, just starting out with a light massage. I smelled a light dash of cologne. It was so cute, he tried to impress me with some expensive Gucci-knockoff he found at Kohl’s. But, as my hands started to knead harder, and they began to sink underneath his pasty white skin, I thought about the others I had changed.

They hadn’t gone the extra mile to even put on deodorant. I’m not talking about that sexy, musky smell that I gladly add to my clients charge-free. They were stinking like the geriatric ward, or like they just got back from a burger-flipping job. All they cared about was getting me in, and becoming something else. But this dude… Michael… He actually thought about me, and my experience throughout the entire thing. It was a little thing, but it was more than anyone else had done for me…

I had sank into him at a forearm’s length. Crossing my legs around his waist, I could hear him moan a bit. I nibbled on his ear, letting my hot breath caress him, allowing him to shudder. For the first time in a possession, I smiled. This wasn’t work, this was pleasure. I felt my arms slip into place, fingers into his own as a well-fitted glove. I brought his hand to his cheek, caressing it, sticking a finger into his mouth, letting it roll onto his lips.

I was sinking ever faster into his body, his warming skin inviting more of me into him. My built, muscular body effortlessly crept inch by inch into his being, taking up every available ounce of space. Through me, his hands explored his body, stroking and prodding everywhere. I had almost all of me within him. By the end, all that was left was my head, protruding from the back of his neck. A lot of guys ask me what it feels like at this point. Imagine being submerged in a hot tub filled with heavy jello. That’s the only way I can describe it. Everything is slick, tight, compressed, yet extremely buoyant… This time was that much more intense, as I had gone the extra mile to really give him a ride. You know, let him go out with a bang.

I slowly pressed my forehead against the back of his head, feeling his hard skull give way to the same dense, gelatinous feeling that surrounded the rest of me. It takes a minute for me to adjust myself within him before I can actually see out of his eyes, but that first breath… Damn. It’s always exhilarating. I let the humid, hot air of the Caribbean into my lungs, and opened my eyes to the bright, tropical sun. Michael, for all intent and purpose, was relatively gone. Well, normally he would be.

At this point in the possession, I get the memories and thoughts of the host, and usually I just wipe it clean, for the sake of a clean slate. Though, this time, as his memories flooded me, I knew everything about him. He was a good kid. Like, unbelievably so. He cared about others, and not an ounce about himself. Yet, this deep-seeded insecurity he fostered… It actually broke my heart a bit.

Lounging on that pool-lounge, at that beachside Bahamanian mansion, I decided this was my final possession. And this was gonna be the crown jewel. My magnum opus. Maybe it was for selfish reasons, but I couldn’t let this one go. He’d be mine. I mean after all, what more of a prize is there than my smokin’ hot ass?

I spent days in his body, reversing the clock, rewiring his brain, encoding his genetics. It was like shopping for a christmas gift for myself! He’d be just as cocky as I was, a show off to everyone he’d meet. Sexy, lean muscles underneath a perfectly sunkissed skin, painted with tattoos. From his mesmerizing frost-green eyes, to his gigantic, size 16 feet; this 6′3 God among men was going to be a blast to finally meet.

The last day, laying on the pool lounge where it all began, I thought about the last few tweaks. You know, the pierced ears & cock, finger tattoos, finishing up his background, changing his vocal range, making him an alpha top… I had thought long and hard about it over the transformation, and I had decided it was time. This lovable goofball would love me, and I’d love him back. As I pulled myself from his bronzed body, I left his consciousness intact. He was still him underneath it all. He remembered everything. He knew what it was like to have me within him. By the time my exhausted, sweaty body was finally detached from him, he had already opened his eyes for the first time.

He brought his inked hands to his face, smirking a smug grin. I watched him from the cement ground, flexing and kissing his biceps. Our eyes met, and the alpha bravado I had programmed oozed out of him. Yet… I could see Michael in his eyes. He pulled me into a kiss, gentle at first, then passionate and fiery. That mouthwatering musk poured into my nostrils, just as I wanted it to. I tasted that wintergreen tic-tac breath of his, just as I had intended. He groped me and bit my tongue, smiling at me. I had never been so into a guy before.

I knew that Michael would be proud of who he is now. He is truly experiencing something new. He also had a stud by his side to experience it with alongside him. I enjoyed every minute of his invading tongue in my mouth, of his strong fingers tenderly wrapped around my neck. He was perfect. This was perfect. Besides, the best Christmas gift came as he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. A sizable, delicious, musky, uncut package waited for me to unwrap it.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

out of curiosity, do you have any preferred headcanons for how tall the members of the Batfam are? who's the tallest to shortest?

listen I don't have exact measurements but I do have vibes. I'm going to say right out of the gate that I simply do not hold with DC artists and their habit of Russian nesting dolling the Robins so they're each a little bit shorter with age, it's a useful visual shorthand but it's also not my truth even if I sometimes agree with portions.

for instance: I do have to concede that Bruce needs to be the tallest of the Batboys in order to enable a lot of his whole schtick, especially your modern era Batmans who are built to be tanks as opposed to the sleeker, more acrobatically-oriented Batman of earlier ages. Batfleck honestly had a great build for it, 6'4 and built to loom.

on the other hand, I Know what male gymnasts look like and Dick came from a whole family of them; he doesn't need to be SHORT short but brother he is not the tallest Robin by any stretch. he's 5'8 if he's Lucky, likely shorter. and he's fine with it! he isn't insecure about being a compact king!

I strongly dislike the recent development towards drawing adult Jason as a brute, but I have long enjoyed the headcanon that he would have had a hard growth spurt after Bruce took him in and he didn't have to worry about food insecurity. he is absolutely taller than Dick but, HOT TAKE, I don't think he's a Lot taller. as Red Hood he's definitely exaggerating the difference with chunky boots + his stupid full-face mask for extra height, + his jacket and all his gear make him look taller and broader than Nightwing in his little skintight getup. out of costume they physically look much more similar.

I also super hate when Tim is drawn as a skinny short little waif, genuinely there's no reason for that. that's a little American rich boy who grew up on milk and white bread, there's no reason for him to look like he has Victorian urchin wasting disease. fuck this, Tim is taller than both Dick and Jason. same energy as the improv kid I went to high school with who was 5'11 but cool about it.

completing the circle and fully reversing the Robins, I know that other fans have pointed out that Damian's Asian heritage conspires against him being hugelarge as an adult, but genetics are a grab bag and I think he deserves to be Bruce-sized. adult Damian can pick Dick up and put him in the fridge if he wants. at present though his growth spurt is really taking its sweet time and he's hovering around Cass-height (see below).

Duke is hovering in a zone right between Jason and Tim but everyone forgets that and imagines him being taller because the little bat ears on his helmet give him a couple extra inches.

a lot of older comics, especially the Dixon run, frequently have Selina drawn like she's tall as all hell, and I honestly love that for her. 5'11, Megan Thee Stallion kind of build for her.

Cass is frequently drawn as tiny to an extent that is, frankly, implausible and borderline upsetting (if memory serves she literally got folded up and carried in a backpack once?) but listen: she's certainly not tall. I'm willing to offer her 5'3 as an absolute maximum. also literally no one asked but Michelle Yeoh is the Lady Shiva of my heart and shes 5'4, so that's canon To Me.

however tall Dick is in your head I want you to add one (1) inch and that's Barbara. this is so crucial to me.

Steph is like a deeply average 5'4 and a half, and I realize this Does mean that I've Russian nesting dolled the Batgirls (at least in order of appearance in comics, not the actual order they Batgirls) and I am Fine with that. throw Harper Row in here too, she and Steph are just chilling being average height gal pals.

Helena is freakishly tall by Italian woman standards, by which I mean like 5'7.

this is vile and I'm sorry to the Robins but unfortunately Jean Paul is a genetically engineered freak bred to kill so he's probably taller than all of them save for an adult Damian. 6'2 to my miserable boy. beginning to think I was lying when I said I didn't have exact numbers.

so I think in descending order the lineup I've created is Bruce, JP, Selina and Tim, Duke, Jason and Babs, Dick, Helena, Steph and Harper, Damian, Cass.

did I skip anyone vital you want to know about?

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Swap Meat

Masterlist pt 1

Masterlist pt 2

"Dean and Sammy Winchester. And (y/n) (l/n)." Donna greets us after we pulled up to her white two-story house. Her and her teenage daughter, Katie, lead us into the sitting room and they sit on one sofa, next to a coffee table, and me and the boys sit on the other side of the table in another sofa.

Donna sets the plate of cookies on the table which also held a pitcher of lemonade. I take a cookie as she looks us over. "So, how long has it been?" she asked us. "The summer before 6th grade." Sam said. "Mmm, I remember. You two assigned yourselves your own reading list." Donna said as she pointed at me and Sam. "That’s right. I forgot about that." Dean chuckles then I look over at Katie.

"Your mom happens to be the best babysitter we ever had." I said to her, honestly. "Well, when I was a maid at the Mayflower, out on the interstate – long before you were even an idea – their Dads' used to pass through town and leave these three with me while they went off to...work. One time, they were gone for two weeks." Donna explains to Katie.

"Two weeks?" Katie asked, confused. "Mm-hmm. Oh, they'd always come limping back. John loved you boys and (f/n) loved you, (y/n)." Donna explained. "Did you know what they did all that time?" Katie asked her. "Little Sammy kept trying to tell me. Of course, I didn't believe him. Not at first, anyway." Donna said.

"Katie, our dads', um, happened to be an expert at getting rid of ghosts. And now, so are we." Sam said to Katie. "That's why I called them, sweetie. They can help us." Donna tells Katie as Donna's husband comes into the room, carrying suitcases.

"Sounds like you guys got yourself a poltergeist." Dean said. "Started a month or two after we moved in." the man said. "Yeah, first it was, uh, just bumps and knocks and scratches on the walls. And then it started breaking things." Donna said. "And then it attacked Katie?" I asked her. "That was two nights ago." Donna's husband replied and Donna turns to Katie.

"Can you show them, honey?" she asked and Katie stands up and lifts her shirt, revealing words cut into her skin. “Murdered Chylde.” Sam reads. "Katie, everything's gonna be fine. I promise. Why don't you guys take yourselves a little vacation, and, uh, we'll take care of it." Dean assures them and Donna sighs. "Thank you." she said, appreciatively.

Later, we stop at a fast-food restaurant to get some food. Sam was sitting at a table while Dean and I wait at the counter for our order. Then a young teen boy, with dark hair and short and skinny, comes up with a tray of our food. "Uh, bacon burger turbo, large chilli-cheese fry, uh, a chicken sandwich, large fries, uh, and a Health Quake Salad shake?" The kid said and he looks up at us, confused by that last order.

"We know. We know. It's, uh…" Dean said then he clears his throat. "...it's not ours." Dean said and we accept the tray and take it over to the table. After getting our respective food, Dean and I sit opposite Sam as he adds dressing to his salad shake and shakes it, very thoroughly. 

"Oh, you shake it up, baby. You know that's what momma likes." I teased and Sam gives me a look while Dean chuckles. "Sometimes, I wonder about you." Sam said to me. "You shouldn't, I'm around you two twenty-four seven." I said and Sam scoffs. 

"You know, poltergeist aside, Donna looked pretty good, don't you think?" Dean asked and I turn my head to him. "Don't tell me you've still got the hots for our babysitter." I said to him, questioning. "What? No. That's weird." Dean said before he chuckles. "Dean, I know how you are." I said and he clears his throat. "No, I'm just saying that she, you know, she – she's – she's doing good. You know, with her husband, her kid. This whole Amityville thing being thrown at them, and they're hanging tough." he said and I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah." Sam mutters. "You ever think that you'd want something like that? Wife, rugrats, the whole nine?" Dean asked him and Sam shakes his head. "What? You don't think about coming home from a long hard day at work and see a few kids running up to you? And then this sweet, loving woman comes up to you and gives you a welcome home kiss?" I asked him. "No, not really my thing anymore." Sam said and I frown. "Yeah." Dean said and I look down.

"What about you two? Have you guys thought about that life?" Sam asked us, which made me and Dean freeze and my face feels like it's on fire.

"Uh...well...uh"

"You see..."

Then Sam chuckles at mine and Dean's stutter. "So, you guys have thought about it?" Sam asked us and Dean and I share a look before Dean turns to his brother. "Uh...no comment." He said and Sam scoffs out a laugh. "Whatever." He mumbles and I clear my throat, the heat on my face fading.

"Anyway, what do you got?" I asked Sam, changing subject. "Uh, well, that house of theirs, it's old – really old. Um, hundreds of years. And I found a legend. It’s unconfirmed, but still." Sam said. "Saying?" Dean asked. "Supposedly, in the 1720s, the house was owned by a guy named Isaiah Pickett." Sam said and he turns his laptop to show us a site titled Witchcraft. 

"Legend has it he hung a woman in his backyard for witchcraft – a woman named Maggie Briggs." Sam explains. "Okay, so an angry ghost witch?" I asked. "If it's true. That still doesn't explain what Murdered Chylde means." Sam replied. "No, or where the bitch is buried." said Dean. "You know, I mean, it's a long way back, but I can see if I can find something in the town records." Sam said. "It's worth a shot." Dean said, shrugging, as I nod.

*3rd Person POV*

Sam is walking down the street and was talking on the phone. "So, any luck?" (y/n)'s voice asked him. "Bupkis. Can't even find proof a woman named Maggie Briggs existed, much less where she was planted." Sam replied. "All right. Well, we've got a minute to breathe here, so, uh, let's pick it up first thing." (y/n) said. "Yeah, you bet. See you two in a few." Sam said and he hangs up.

He continues walking and makes it to the park. But at one point, he hears a noise and stops. Then a dart hits Sam in the neck. "Aah! What..." Sam grumbles but then he falls to the ground.

Sometime later, Sam wakes up and looks down at his clothes, which wasn't clothes he recognized. It looked like it was a uniform to a fast-food restaurant. He places a hand on his neck but didn't feel anything.

Later, he was walking down the street when a police car comes up behind him. "Yeah, this is Collins out on Route 30. I think we got him." the officer said into his radio the he rolls down the window and calls out to Sam.

"Mr. Frankel? Mr. Gary Frankel?" The officer calls out and Sam looks over at him. "Who?" he asked, confused. "Your family's worried sick about you, son." the officer said to Sam. "My – my family? My brother called you?" Sam asked him. "Come on, get in before you freeze solid." the officer tells him and Sam gets in the police car.

The police car pulls into the driveway of a blue two-storey house then the officer gets out and opens the door for Sam. "Thanks, uh, but, uh, w-where are we?" Sam asked him, still confused. "You're home, son." the officer tells him and Sam shakes his head. "N-no, officer, I-I'm not staying here." he stated.

Then two older people, obviously Mr and Mrs Frankel, run out of the house. "Gary! Oh, my God! Gary! Oh, God! Gary!" the woman cries as she hugs Sam. "Oh, hey! Hey! Hey!" Sam stammers.

"Are you all right?" The woman asked him. "Okay. Okay. Okay. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Um, w-what's going on here?" Sam asked her. "What do you mean?" the woman asked him, worried. "Lady, who are you?" Sam asked.

"Young man, are you drunk?" the man asked, sternly. "And who are you?" Sam asked. "Gary, are you drunk? Answer your father." the woman asked, panicked. "My father? Look…" Sam started to say but then he was able to see his reflection in the police car window. It wasn't him, it was of a young teen with dark hair.

"Who is that?! Who the hell is that?!" Sam asked, panicked, ashe points at his reflection. "He's out of his gourd. Young man, I'm very surprised at you." the father said and Sam scoffs. "Yeah. Tell me about it."

*(y/n)'s POV*

​​​​​​"Has he contacted you back?" Dean asked me, worried, as we make our way to our motel door. "For the hundredth time, Dean, I have called and texted him and he hasn't responded." I said, exasperated, and Dean looked annoyed. "Look, I know you're upset. We'll find him." I assured him and we opened the door to find Sam standing by the mirror of the motel room.

"See! There he is!" I said and Dean rolls his eyes and turns to Sam. "Sam. Where the hell you been, man? We've been trying to call you for hours." Dean said to him as Sam turns to us. "I picked up some food. Bacon burger turbo, large chilli-cheese fry, and chicken sandwich with fries, right?" Sam said as he holds up the bag of food.

"Sorry, man. Really. I-I just – I lost track of time. I didn't mean to freak you out." he said. "Thanks. Don't know why it took you two hours, but thanks." Dean said as he takes the bag. "Oh, you guys are gonna want to eat that on the road." Gary said as we get our food.

"Why?" I asked Sam. "The maid came in, saw that..." Sam said as he points out to all of the weapons laid out for cleaning. "...and now they're all kind of freaking out." Sam said. "Why'd you let the maid in?" Dean asked him, annoyed. "It just happened." Sam replied and I narrow my eyes at this. "Whatever. I got to hit the head, and then we'll take off." Dean said as he heads to the bathroom. "All right. I-I’ll be outside" Sam said while I walk up to the weapons.

"I guess I'll clean this up." I grumble and I start to gather up the weapons and pack them up.

After all that mess, Dean and I walk over to the Impala and I see Sam sitting in the passenger seat. I roll my eyes a bit at this and head to the backseat while Dean walks up and opens the driver’s door.

"Hey. You ready?" Dean asked Sam. "Absolutely." Sam said and Dean gets in. "Hey, can I drive?" Sam asked him and look at Sam, as does Dean. Moments later, he and Sam switch seats and Sam starts the engine. "Oh, this is so sweet!" he said, excitedly, as he revs the engine. "You want to get the lead out, Andretti? Come on." Dean said and I notice Sam putting the car into gear. 

"Reverse. Reverse!" I yell as the tires squeal and the Impala shoots backwards and hits the dumpster, full trash bags fall onto the trunk. My body jerks at this as Dean turns to Sam. "It's in reverse." Dean growls at Sam then he looks over at me. "You okay, sweetheart?" He asked me, concerned, as I rub the back of my neck. "Yeah, nothing's broken. Probably will be sore." I said and Dean nods then he and Sam get out and survey the damage.

"I am really, really sorry." Sam said to Dean. "Shut up." Dean growls as he and Sam get into the car and drive away. The trash bags on the trunk fall to the ground.

"So, uh, where we going, anyway?" Sam asked us, the next day, as we walk down the street to the Impala. "To work. The case?" I said to Sam, as I raise an eyebrow at him. "Oh, right. Yeah – the case. Of course. Where, uh, do you guys want to start?" Sam asked. "Well, since you couldn't find where Maggie Briggs was buried, now we have to do an all-day tombstone roll to see if we can dig her up." Dean said.

"Wait. M-Maggie Briggs? You mean, like – like, the witch Maggie Briggs?" Sam asked. "Yeah, Sherlock." Dean said, annoyed, as Dean and I stand on one side of the Impala and Sam on the other side. "Yeah, she's in the basement." Sam said.

"Come again? W-what basement?" I asked him. "Isaiah Pickett’s house. Okay, there's this legend that he hung her, but he didn't. The real truth is that she was carrying his illegitimate child, and he killed her and then buried her in the basement." Sam said. "The murdered chylde. That would explain the scratches." Dean mutters and I look over at Sam.

"How do you know all this?" I asked him, suspiciously. "Oh, I've done all kinds of research on it." Sam said and Dean and I look at him in surprise. "I mean, you know, last night." Sam stammers. "Yeah. Nice work...I guess." Dean said and we get into the Impala and Dean turns on the radio and Bob Seger's Rock 'n' Roll Never Forgets plays.

"Aw, man, turn it up!" Sam said, excitedly, and I look over at him, so does Dean. "Seriously?" we asked. "Hell yeah!" Sam said, happily, and Dean turns the radio up and Sam bobs his head to the music and sings along. Something's going on... ​I thought as we drive to this house.

Minutes later, Dean, Sam and I walk downstairs and look around with flashlights. "Boo-yah! Master chief is in the house, bizatches!" Sam said and I look over at him and aim my flashlight at him. "Are you all right?" I asked Sam as he recoils from the light shining in his face. "Yeah. Fine." Sam said and I move the flashlight away from his face.

I hum, suspiciously, at this. Normally, Sam would get annoyed if I did that and he always hates Dean's music nor would he ever ask Dean to drive the Impala unless Dean asked him to. Something was definitely going on....

"Well, I'll be damned. Willow moss." Dean said as he points out the moss on the ground. "Yeah, right. It's, uh, supposed to grow over witches' graves, right?" Sam said, nervously, and Dean and I look at him. Why is he saying it like he's guessing? He should know this.​​​​ I thought as Dean said. "Yeah."

Dean and I take two shovels out of the bag and start digging up the grave. "Hey, guys, I'm really sorry about this." Sam said and I stop and furrow my brow. "Sorry about what?" I asked as I look up to see Sam suddenly flying backwards and hit the wall. "Sam!" Dean and I shout as we rush to Sam and help him up.

"You okay?" Dean asked and Sam nods. "Let's get the hell out of here!" he shouts and he starts to run but I grab his arm. "Wait, wait, wait. We still got to burn the body, you idiot. Come on." I shouted but then Dean and I go flying into the wall and the ghost appears in front of us.

She starts to rush at us but then she burns up before she could do anything. We look over and see the flames burning in the grave while Sam stands next to the grave, holding a can of lighter fluid. "Dude, that was sweet!" he exclaims, smiling.

Later, we were at a bar, sitting at a table. The three of us had a bottle of beer. A waitress comes and brings us some more drinks. "Here you go, guys." she said to us. "Thanks." I tell her. "You know, do me a favor, sweetheart. Would you bring me a cheeseburger with extra bacon? And fry an egg on top of it, would you?" Dean asked her. "Absolutely." the waitress said. "Ooh, that – that sounds good. Ditto." Sam said and the waitress nods then turns to me.

"Anything for you, honey?" She asked me while I eyed Sam. "Uh, no, nothing for me, thank you." I said. "Okay. Be right back with your order." the waitress said and she leaves.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Sam?" I asked Sam, who looks at me in shock and fear. "W-what do you mean?" he asked me. "Bacon cheeseburgers now?" Dean asked. "I don't know. I eat them, don't I? Anyways, we are celebrating." Sam said then he lifts his glass in a toast. "Yeah, I guess. Another one bites the dust." Dean said and he and Sam clink their bottles but I continue to eye Sam. I'm really not buying the excuses Sam was giving us.

"Nice work today." Dean tells him. "You too. I had a, uh, really awesome day, man. Seriously." Sam said before he downs his drink. "Whoo! Sweet." he exclaims. "A really awesome day?" I asked him. "Yeah. Why not?" Sam said, shrugging. "It was a random, D-list ghost hunt. That’s – that's awesome to you?" I asked Sam.

"I can't be in a good mood?" Sam asked, defensively. "Yeah, I guess, I just…No, actually. It's not really your style, Sam." I said. "Well, then, it's a new me. I mean, come on. Why shouldn't I be happy? I've got a gun, I'm getting drunk, and..." Sam said then he points his finger at his face. "I look like this." he said then he sighs while I narrow my eyes at him.

"I don't know. You ever feel like your whole future is being decided for you?" Sam asked us. "Uh, yeah, Sam, I feel like that a lot." Dean said and I nod. "Yeah, every day." I said. "No matter how much you fight it, you can't stop the plan. The stupid, stupid plan. So, I don't know. I guess it's, uh, it's just nice to do a little ass-kicking for a change, that's all. Uh, you know what? I – I'm drunk." Sam chuckles. "Sorry. Just – just forget it." 

"No, no. It's all right. It’s, uh…I'll drink to that." Dean said then they clink glasses and drink while I just eye Sam and drink my drink. "Wow, you know, is it just me, or are we actually drinking together?" Dean asked me and I shrug. "It sure is weird." I said as Sam looks between us.

"We don't do it that often, huh?" He asked and Dean scoffs. "Yeah, you could say that." Dean said. "Well, we should. You're good people." Sam said as he looks between us. "Oh, you are drunk." Dean jokes as the waitress arrives with the burgers.

"Here you go." She said as she sets the plates down. "Mmm. Thank you." Dean tells her. "Enjoy." the waitress said and she leaves once again. "No, but I mean it. You guys really are good people." Sam said to us then he takes a bite of his burger. "Mmm! The bread alone! Mmm!" Sam moans as I eye him, sipping my beer.

Minutes later, Sam gets up and goes over to the bar to get some drinks and I look over at Dean. "That's not Sam." I said, quickly, and Dean looks over at me. "What?" He asked me. "Dean, that's not Sam. I don't know how but...it is not him." I said. "Oh, c'mon, course it's him." Dean said and I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Dean, honey, I love you but sometimes you can be a bit dense." I said and he gives me an offended look. "Hey!" He said, offended, and I shrug. "Well, it's the truth. Are you seriously thinking that is your brother?" I asked him as I gesture my head towards Sam at the bar. "After everything he has said and done. I mean, letting the maid in our hotel room, wanting to drive the Impala, excited to listen to your music and now...eating bacon burgers?!" I listed off and we look over to see Sam talking to a pretty woman.

Then both Sam and the woman leave the bar until Sam turns to us. "We're gonna do it!" he said and I turn to Dean with an I told you so look. "You believe me now?" I asked him as he finally looks suspicious.

*3rd Person POV*

Meanwhile, Sam had been dealing with possessing the boy's, Gary, body. He had been looking for clues on how and why this happened. How it happened was that Gary had found a book of witchcraft and used it to switch bodies with him. Sam didn't find out why because he was now captured by Gary’s friends, Trevor and Nora.

He was now sitting on a coffee table with his hands tied behind his back. Trevor is holding a phone while Nora stands nearby with her arms folded.

"Hey! What the hell's going on?!" Sam asked, panicked. "You can scream all you want." Trevor said. "No one can hear you! My parents are out of town!" he shouts, loudly, showing that no one else was around except for them.

Then Trevor turns to his phone as Gary, the one possessing Sam's body, answers his phone. "Gary." he said. "T. What up?" Gary asked him. "Where are you?" Trevor asked him. "Uh, I can't really tell you right now, but, man, you wouldn't believe it." Gary said.

"Well, where's Dean?" Trevor asked him and Sam eyes Trevor at this. "Uh, the Cloverleaf on Route 6. Why?" Gary asked. "You mean you haven't killed him yet?" Trevor asked, annoyed, and Sam panics again. "What? Wait, wait, wait, wait. W-what do you mean? Kill Dean?" Sam asked.

"Building up to it. Plus kinda hard to kill him when that hot chick hangs around him." Gary said. "And you didn't get rid of her, either? Great." Trevor grumbles, annoyed. "Look, Gary, we got problems here. For one, I'm looking at your body right now – with this other dude in it." Trevor said as he turns to look at Sam.

"What?" Gary asked, shocked. "Yeah, he's been in your house. He's hanging out with your parents." Trevor said. "Okay just...calm down. Whatever he says, no one's gonna believe him, right? I mean, w-we're still good." Gary said. "Would you just hurry up and kill the son of a bitch already, would you?" Trevor said, angrily. "Don't rush me. I'll do it." Gary said. "Yeah, you better." Trevor growls then he hangs up.

He paces for a bit, looks over at Sam then at Nora. "I don't think he's gonna do it." he said. "Just relax, this is Gary we're talking about." Nora assures him. "What the hell is going on here? How do you know who Dean is?" Sam asked them. "Everybody knows Dean. He’s Hell’s most wanted." Trevor replied and Sam sighs.

"Oh, no. No. Have you idiots been talking to demons?" He asked them. "Oh, right. We're the idiots." Trevorlaughs, smugly. "You're just kids. You have no idea what you're messing with." Sam tells them. "Well, we know that there's a price on Dean's head, and we're the ones that are gonna collect." Trevor said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked. "About a month ago, we were down here –" Nora begins to explain but Trevor turns to her. "Nora." Trevor growls and Nora turns to him. "We’re not allowed to talk about him?" she asked him then she turns to Sam. "We were down here, goofing around with that book." She said. "Um, I wouldn't exactly call praying to our dark overlord goofing around.” Trevor said.

"Don’t be a loser, Trev." Nora said. "Yeah, Trev." Sam said and Nora turns back to Sam. "Anyway, all of a sudden, the lights flickered and Gary went into this weird trance. He closed his eyes, picked up a pencil, and drew this." She said and she shows Sam a drawing of Dean.

"And you know what's really weird? Gary can't draw." Trevor said. "He said he heard a voice in his head. The demons were putting out a bounty on this guy." Nora explains. "A bounty?" Sam asked. "Yeah, like, every witch or Satanist across the whole country. But Gary – Gary’s the one who spotted you." Nora said.

"And the Freaky Friday crap?" Sam asked. "Another spell from the book. Gary's idea – go in Trojan horse-style. He's really smart." Nora said, smiling. "That is, if he has the beanbags to go through with it." Trevor growls. "Listen to me. You are making a terrible mistake. We're talking about a demon deal – killing somebody. This isn't a game. You're crossing a line you won't come back from. Believe me." Sam warns them and Nora looks at Trevor in alarm.

"What?" Trevor asked her. "Nothing. I-I..." She stammers and Trevor glares at her. "Nora, don't tell me you're actually listening to this jerk." he said as he gestures to Sam. "I don't know. M-maybe. I-I mean, what if he has a point?" Nora asked. "I don't believe this. First Gary, now you. I can't – you know what? Fine. You want something done right..." He said then Nora interrupts him. "What, you're gonna – you're gonna go kill Dean yourself, tough guy?" she asked.

"Don't have to. I can do this." He said and he holds up the witchcraft book open to a page about demon summoning. "N-no, no. Y-you can't be serious." Nora stammers. "I'm calling up one of these bad boys, turning these punks over, and getting paid. Dolla, dolla bills, y'all!" Trevor said, excitedly.

"I-I really don't think that that's a good idea." Nora said, worried, and Sam shakes his head. "It's not. It's a very, very bad idea." Sam said. "No one asked you." Trevor spat at him and he goes back to the book.

Back at the motel, Gary enters the room and looks over at the bed. There was two figures sleeping in the bed, so Gary picks up a gun and aims it at the bed. But before he could do anything, Dean and (y/n) appear behind him and (y/n) kicks the back of his knee and Dean punches him.

"Ow!" Gary exclaims, in pain. "You're not Sam. Who the hell are you?" Dean asked him, angrily, while Gary looks up at the two in fear.

Back at Trevor's house, Trevor was setting up the ingredients for the summoning ritual. "Don't do this. I'm begging you." Sam pleads and Nora looks over at Trevor. "Trevor, I think he's right." she said. "Hey, you want to get into Vassar, don't you?" Trevor asked her and Nora looks down.

"Please! Stop!" Sam shouts while Trevor commences the spell. "You're gonna get us all killed!" Sam yells at him. "Ad ligandum eos pariter eos coram me!" Trevor said but nothing seems to have happened. "Maybe I said it wrong." he said and he turns and sees Nora slumped on the floor.

"Nora?" He asked, worried, as he goes over to her. "No! No, no! Don't touch her!" Sam warns but Trevor doesn't listen. "Nora, you okay?" he asked and Nora looks at him, her eyes black.

"Oh, yeah. I'm peachy." she said and she stands up. "So, what'd you call me here for, Skippy? Unless...it's dinnertime?" she asked Trevor. "What? I-I...n-no. Uh, we have Dean Winchester." Trevor said. "You do? Where?" Nora asked him.

"Trevor, keep your mouth shut." Sam growled at him. "The Cloverleaf Motel over on Route 6." Trevor replied and Nora turns to Sam. "Sam? Is that you in there?" she asked as Sam glares at her then she laughs. "Well, aren't you just 98 pounds of nothing." 

"The kid is a moron. He doesn't have any idea where Dean is." Sam said and Nora laughs again. "So, if Sam’s in this body, who's in Sam’s?" Nora asked Trevor. "A dangerous warlock. Named Gary." Trevor said, proudly. "You mean to tell me you've got Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester's meat suit? An empty vessel just waiting to be filled. And you're handing them both over to me?" Nora asked him, impressed. "Uh, y-yeah. I guess." Trevor said.

"Well...I got to hand it to you. I'm impressed." Nora said. "Thanks. Um, so if you don't mind my asking...there's a reward?" Trevor asked. "Sure. My undying gratitude." Nora said and Trevor chuckles, nervously. "What, are you serious?" he asked.

"Be quiet, you idiot!" Sam shouts. "Consider yourself lucky, kid." Nora said and Trevor sighs. "Um, wait a minute! We worked our asses off here, and, uh, I want my reward!" Trevor shouts and Nora stares at him. "Please?" He adds and she chuckles.

"Okay. I'm sorry. You're right. What can I get you?" Nora asked him. "Well, h-how about a million bucks?" Trevor asked and Sam sighs. "Oh, for God's sake, Trevor, just shut up and run!" Sam yells. "A million doesn't buy you much these days. Why not make it 10?" Nora asked him. "Okay, $10 mill. And I want...I want Mindy Schwartz to fall in love with me." Trevor demands.

"Love...money." Nora chuckles. "Sticking to the basics. I can respect that. But here's my counter." she said then she drives her hand into Trevor’s body. Blood runs from his mouth as he drops to the floor and Nora licks blood from her hand.

"Yep. Tastes like moron." She said and she smiles at Sam.

Back at the motel, Dean presses a button on the motel room phone. Gary is tied to a chair and (y/n) stands next to Dean. "You have 38 messages." the voicemail said and it beeps then plays the messages.

"Uh, this is gonna sound crazy – really crazy – but I think, uh, I think I'm in the wrong body."

"Guys, the guy right next to you is not me!"

"Dean, (y/n), check your friggin' voicemails. Damn it."

"All right, pal. Either you start talking or I start water boarding." Dean threatens Gary, who quickly cowers. "Oh, my God. Please, don't hurt me. Please! I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" he pleads

"Hey, pull it together, champ." (y/n) tells him. "I don't want to die. I don't want to die." Gary pleads. "Where's Sam?" Dean asked him. "In my – my friend's basement. His parents are out of town." Gary replied and (y/n) furrows her brow.

"Parents? How old are you?" She asked him. "17." Gary replied. "17? Huh." Dean mutters and (y/n) pinches the bridge of her nose. "Are you...?" (Y/n) started to ask but her and Dean, both, go flying backwards and fall to the ground, both of then lying still.

Gary turns and sees Nora. "Nora?" he asked, confused,  but then her eyes turn black. "Not at the moment." she said,  smiling, then she unties Gary. "Boy, you earned your dessert tonight, kiddo. Tell me – what is it you want? Anything." she said and Gary turns to her, surprised. "Anything?" he asked and she nods. "Lay it on me." she said.

"I want to be a witch. For real. And really powerful." Gary said. "Mm. Good choice. I get it. No daddy, no M.I.T. No plan. You get to be big and strong, and no one can tell you what to do anymore. There's just one small formality first. You got to meet the boss." Nora said and Gary furrows his brow.

"The boss?" he asked. "You know – your Satanic majesty, or whatever the kids are calling it these days." Nora said. "The devil?" Gary asked, shocked, and Nora nods. "Uh...no. O-okay. Um, it's okay. I...don't really want to bother him." Gary stammers.

"Oh, but he's gonna want to meet you. Relax. It'll be easy. He's just gonna ask you one little question, and all you got to do is say yes. And then, you get your reward." Nora said and Dean, now conscious, swings at Nora with a knife. She catches his arm, throws him to the ground and kicks him.

Then Nora was pushed back by a force and slammed up against the wall. Gary looks over to see (y/n) holding her hand out towards Nora, almost like she was holding her up. "Nice little trick, (y/n)." Nora said as (y/n) glares at her and Dean looks over at Gary.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus." Gary said then Nora looks over at him. "What was that?" she asked and Gary looks at her, nervously. "Uh, n-nothing." Gary stammers. "Spiritus, omnis satanica potestas." (y/n) continues the process.

"Omnis incursio infernalis adversii. Omnis congregatio." Dean said then Gary joins in and all three of them chant the exorcism. "Et secta diabolica. Ergo, draco maledicte. Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire. Te rogamus." they said, in unison.

"Adios, bitch!" Dean growls. "Uh, it’s adinos.” Gary corrected him and black smoke pours out of Nora’s mouth, and she screams as the smoke exits through a vent in the wall.

(Y/n) lowers her hand, slowly, and let Nora down on the ground, gently. Gary looks over at the two and nods, satisfyingly, at them.

*(y/n)'s POV*

After explaining what the hell happened, Gary and Nora take us to their friend's house where they had Sam tied up. Nora was sitting on a bed wrapped in a robe while Dean and I watch Gary, who is sitting opposite Sam with spell ingredients between them.

"Animae domum redeant. Fas atque nefas instauretur. Potestate et auctoritate, sic fiat." Gary said and he drops powder into the bowl between him and Sam, causing light to flare from it.

When the light dies down, Gary and Sam have changed places. Sam gets up and looks at himself in a mirror. "So, we good?" Dean asked him. "Yeah. We're good. Oh, man, it's nice to be back." Sam said.

"Yeah. Awesome." Gary said, downtrodden. "So…" Dean said before he clears his throat. "Gary." he said and Gary sighs. "I know – my bad." he said, upset, and I stare at him. "My bad? Kid, my bad ain't gonna cut it. See, if you were of voting age...you'd be dead. Because we would kill you." I tell him and he looks up, surprised.

"So either you straighten up and fly right or we will kill you. Are we clear?" Dean said and Gary nods. "Crystal." He said. "Good." Dean said.

The Impala pulls up outside of Gary’s house and all of us get out. "Crap." Gary grumbles. "Gary, take it from someone who knows – chin up, man. Your life ain't that bad." Sam said and Gary turns to him. "Uh, you met my parents." he said, questioning. "Yeah. So what? It's your life. You don't like their plan for you, tell them to cram it. Rebel a little bit. In a healthy, non-Satanic way, of course. By the way, you know why Nora’s into witchcraft?" Sam asked.

"What do you mean?" Gary asked him. "She doesn't like Satan, you moron. She likes you." Sam said. "Really? You think?" Gary asked, hopeful. "Yeah, I know. I'm telling you, kid – I wish I had your life." Sam said. "You do? Thanks." Gary said, smiling. "Get out of here." Sam tells the kids and they head for the house.

"That was a nice thing to say." I said to Sam. "I totally lied. That kid's life sucked ass." Sam said as the three of us get into the Impala. "All that apple-pie, family crap? It's stressful. Trust me – we didn't miss a damn thing." Sam said. "Or we don't know what we're missing." Dean said as he starts the engine and Rock 'n' roll Never Forgets plays loudly.

"Oh, come on, man. Turn it down." Sam said, annoyed, and Dean does so. "Welcome back, Kotter." he grumbles and I shake my head as we head off.

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @ellie-andthemachine

[cupidspup]

hello! congrats on 50 followers!

#9 from your 20 questions game? as a queer disabled regressor i love hearing other people’s experiences!

~ @littletism 🎀

Eeee hello hi! ^^ Thank you for your question I'm so so excited to answer! ૮ ᴖﻌᴖა

The question is:

"If you have other marginalized identities (lgbtq+, neurodivergent, poc, ect...) how do they figure into your regression?"

And my answer is...

It incorporates into my regression in a lot of ways!! X)

I know you all don't know a lot about me so this is sort of a deeper dive into me along with being a fun lil game! :] So strap in its a bit of a long one x)

I'm a person of color, I'm in the lgbtq+ community (not straight and my gender identity doesn't align with my assigned sex at birth), I have autism and adhd AND on top of that I have other mental health/physical health problems that can take a huge toll on me too! :")

Regression isn't always sunshine and rainbows for sure. I come from a very troubled background, my regression comes from a place to heal that child that was hurt from that time. To give me back what I lost as a child or to give me what I never had.

I'm a trans guy and I'm proud, but online I get really finicky about it because I'm always scared that no one will respect it (or my pronouns) because I'm a hyperfem trans guy so I try to hide my gender/sex a lot which is something I'm working on ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა

On top of that with the mental health problems I have, they make me incredibly sensitive and extremely clingy no matter what age I regress to. I have chronic back and joint pain which makes it hard to do a lot of the "typical" regressor things and sometimes it can put a damper on how I feel about myself as a little too (╥ᆺ╥；)

This all translates to a very big crybaby little, who seems like nothing will satisfy them, very high maintenance along with the constant energy just MOVING!!! I'm not a skinny person either and my feelings get so confused too :< "why don't I look like that person? I want to sit criss-crossed too!! Wait I don't want to be a little prince I wanna be a princess!! Princesses are cute!! Oh I hope I'm not being too much...I'm too much...Oh but my cg loves me still!!" Most of the time when I'm small, my Pronouns change too because in my little brain the feminine girly stuff feels way better than all the little boy stuff!! It's a really hard thing to navigate but I'm happy the people around me are open minded and accepting of that 🩷

With all the trauma I've experienced certain words and actions can trigger me even easier :"] it can be a lot for a lil guy with anxiety. Not to mention that my regression doesn't look anything like my childhood (I'm Latin-Hispanic) so sometimes it feels like it's just a game of pretend or like I'm dressing up as a white person so that I can fit in with the "rest of the kids" ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟;;;ა (I, of course, mean no offense to anyone)

Thoughts and feelings are fast and troublesome.

But it's not all that bad either!!

With the big thoughts come even bigger hugs and kisses! With the back/joint pain comes back rubs and tickles (With consent of course🩷) and soft pillows n plushies to rest on!! When I feel like stimming I (very luckily) have a cg who's willing to rock me n do all the stimmy things with me! ૮( ˃ ꒳ ˂)ა He's always willing to work around the stuff I like and don't like and knows what food is safe and not safe :3

I feel that because I'm so different a whole other world gets unlocked through my regression!! I want to experience so much and rewrite the story that little me had to live through. I want to bring comfort to those who don't exactly have any guidance or the means for said comfort.

My regression is different from most but also valid and very common! I love this community and I love that it's been here for me for my hardest times 🩷 I'd love to be an older figure in the community (since I'm so grown up now!! I grew from 13 to almost 21 in the blink of a eye!!) that guides the new generation one step at a time :] There's so much more that I can say about my regression but this is getting long and I think I've covered a good amount of it ૮ ᴖﻌᴖა

Thank you so much @littletism for joining the game and asking me this question!! ૮ ᴖﻌᴖა (also I love your blog its so so cute and it'd be so cool if we could be friends maybe ८,,◐⩊◐,,ა /nf)

Anywho until next time!!

- Kyupie ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

[milogreer]

For that thing you just reblogged (I'm sooo good explaining myself), Lasko? ^^

hi morgan! 👋🏼 ty for letting me talk about lasko again hehe ↳ send me a character!

My first impression: so … i almost didn’t get into the DAMN arc when i should have chronologically 🫣 when i saw that there was gonna be new characters i was so reluctant to get into them bc i just wanted the ones i already knew. but he had me hooked in his first audio cause the way he went “shit- i mean damn- DARN. ah fuck” made me laugh 💘

My impression now: LASKO 🥰🥰 my number two guy!! he’s made me so genuinely rabid sometimes that i don’t even know how i’ve survived it. i really really love how his character has developed & still is developing now with his coworker. i miss him so dearly, i hope he comes back soon despite the pack weddings on the horizon

A favorite thing: i always think it’s so funny when he swears and then tries to correct himself even outside of work settings. babes it’s okay!! you can say fuck! this is a safe space beloved swear all you want bc i swear like a fuckin sailor

Least favorite thing: not least favorite in an “i don’t like this” way but in a “this makes me so so sad” way: oh man. the ways he puts himself down, like. when he says “i don’t know if you should have to see the ‘nothing special’ side of me yet” ??? oh my god. there was a similar line in the FL/gavin/lasko BA that made me hurt so much i had to pause and walk away for a minute ☹️

Favorite line/scene: “being with you, how i feel when i’m with you, how i feel right now… it’s proof that new isn’t scary. i don’t have to be scared of something just because it’s unfamiliar.” …. i actually haven’t ever relistened to the first time audio bc it did psychic damage to me LOL but i had to find the exact quote... this audio and the “slowing down” audio i feel gave him a lot of depth beyond “nervous sub who gets freaky sometimes” and i love it for him!!

Favorite interaction that character has with another: listen listen listen okay. i love gavin/lasko as much as the next person. i eat up every single interaction like it’s the most expensive dessert on the menu. HOWEVER. lasko inviting huxley to join his dnd campaign when they're first reconnecting makes me so happy 🥺💕

A character that I wish that character would interact with more: milo ummm hmm…. tbh i always love when lasko and damien get like Real Interactions. i think they should have more one on ones that aren’t about DAMN or damien worrying that he’s freaking lasko out/lasko being nervous about damien’s intensity

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of them: i have forgotten every single other character i’ve ever met 🫣 i think i'm gonna take this option out for the other asks i got unless someone rly hits me lskjdgsd

A headcanon: i know it’s popular fanon already but i really do love when he is tall and bespectacled. mwah. also i think he likes vocaloid. it’s just a feeling i have

A song: against the kitchen floor by will wood !!!! i’ve posted it before but it’s always the first one i think of for lasko

An unpopular opinion: we need less twinky baby-faced white boy laskos. being submissive doesn't automatically make you a skinny twink!! giving him fat, facial hair, wrinkles, etc will not kill him i promise

[go-go-gadget-autism]

i’ve been on tumblr to where i can sort of get the generalized humor that hit posts have and i know i’m funny enough to do them however i am also Too Stupid to Think of something.

so here are some quotes from me and my friends.

“what if i disguised myself as a chair?”

“that’s because you’re a classified homosexual.”

“having boobs does NOT make you magical.”

“since you haven’t seen rudolph the red nosed reindeer, i think you deserve to be shot.”

“why are you french”

“i am the sex”

“i will jizz in your oven”

“if you’re gonna get a blood disease, go big or go home”

“i’m not just fast, i’m autism fast”

“everyone needs an emotional support femboy”

“you should become a foot fetish artist”

“give me my aids”

“biblically accurate republican”

“i haven’t pissed in sixteen years”

“i didn’t waterboard the fish i swear!”

“i have the personality of a brick that plays dragon city”

“hentai father”

“the communism demons”

“i’m gonna commit a war crime on these fucking bugs”

“get sucked”

“the king of piss”

“the joke here is that you’re all going to die”

“*in hulk hogan voice* grab on my balls brother”

“*in scottish accent* necrophilia is like fine wine”

“platonic sugar daddy”

“i’m not gonna suck his nose.”

“girthy gunnage”

“how can a gun be autistic”

“don’t get your beans in a bungle”

“i don’t wanna be a bouillon cube!!”

“skinny jeans crush my balls, and not in a good way”

“i was gonna say that made me hard but then i remembered that i don’t have a penis”

“all chickens are racist.”

“people that use the skull emoji are attracted to femboys”

“aren’t fleshy potatoes just irish people??”

“he has rebellious white boy energy, and not in the sexy way”

“i’m just gonna casually eat poland gimme a second”

“you’re at perfect dick punching height”

“i am NOT a spy balloon!!!”

“penis jumpscare”

“stab me daddy”

“all hail the fuckle knuckle”

“that is the gayest fish i have ever seen”

“wait, you guys fuck ovens?”

“guys, am i a twink?”

“a gun is useless against the dreaded taxes.”

“chemically unstable shitting”

“non-hispanic bitch slap”

“you’re a woman sometimes, go make me a sandwich”

“are you accusing me of being sans undertale?”

“not gonna lie, i’d let Ted Bundy kill me. I’d let him eat me. preferably alive.”

“someone’s parent. imma bang em.”

“hitler moment”

“breast buy”

“guys, i did it! i created therapy!”

“i need my HVAC bible”

“the grapes built like himbos?”

“you’d let a tree shoot you if it had enough eyeliner.”

“i am a terrible mexican”

“i am going to make you into a soup”

“fuck it. *unchops your suey*”

“i’m gonna cuck him. musically.”

“you may be an engineer, but i have the pokémon deluxe essential handbook!”

“i’m going to fight the visible light spectrum”

“sounds like your balls just couldn’t handle the neutron style”

“i don’t do vapes i only do bagels”

“if you shit on my couch i swear to fucking god”

“you’re balls?”

“on a happier note, i just purchased England!”

“yeah, that’s old hag energy”

“i am now switzerland”

“i am in a relationship with gay jesus”

“what’s up cucumber”

“unlike you, i’m misogynistic.”

“hoe you are NOT going commando while working at an arby’s”

“ok well if you do throw up try to aim for the holes in your violin”

feel free to add your own quotes! my friends and i say some insane shit sorry

[whisperthatruns]

Sisters

Back when we were witches, and we said about the little one We'll test her powers soon, I was always having the dream where I climb up a hill and then fall off the earth. I'm grown now so I dream about the work waiting on my desk and, under the desk, the mice. I remember jelly shoes and jelly sandwiches, Skin So Soft and No More Tears, our mother burying arrowheads for us to find in the backyard. When the shark head washed up, I held my breath and tugged loose some teeth--- I'm always taking the sea out of the sea. I thought the bad things in my head could come true, which meant I was afraid and believed in my own power. It was the summer my sister let the tomcat in, chipmunk thrashing in his mouth, and our mother shouted Jesus Fucking Christ so the neighbors never said hello again, and the summer and the years of unsleep after I found our grandfather dead in the cellar, on the floor that was good for his back. In time we forgot his voice and would swear on his grave to make each other shiver. We knew yellow honeysuckle was sweeter than white. I kissed my sisters during house, and other games like shipwreck and mental institution. Without a brother it didn't feel dirty. In the outdoor shower we'd press wet outlines to the wood to see who was tall and who was thin, and I was neither.

The soap in the clamshell, gritty with sand, stung like other shameful things: when I dug my chin into my sister's unfused skull, because my mother said be careful of her soft spot,

or when I licked the dog's face when I thought no one was watching, and I wanted to give him something he would understand. The fur stuck to my tongue.

We were learning the one who has the power is the one who cares the least, cigarettes will kill you, blond is beautiful.

At the Grand Canyon, our mother wouldn't go near our father. He wouldn't but just in case.

One day I'll lose my mind over a boy who won't want me and my mother will try to put me in perspective, like adjusting a camera. Imagine if I died how much worse you would feel, she'll say helpfully.

I'll get skinny, everyone will think it's great. Until Psych Services will dispense the pills that make that make me fatter, and happier, and probably save my life. I'll tell her

there was a time when one of us was always crying, except for the youngest who said Sometimes I wish I could care, but I just don't.

So this was her power, finally arrived.

Laura Cresté, You Should Feel Bad (The Poetry Society of America, 2020)