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#i wish i could say i'm sorry for this but i'm really not
purgatorytf · 3 days
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I wanted to say how flattered I was to hear I inspired your first story, but it seems to me like you’ve had this TF magic in you all along 😉 You’re off to an incredible start, each of your stories has been so hot to read - I’m curious to see how you’d change me? You know how much I love writing about big, pussy obsessed straight men: I wonder if you’ll make me one or an item that a man like that uses and abuses. Have fun with it, bro!
First of all i really want to thank you and all the other people who've sent me nice messages. I've loved transformation for a while now, and i've been feeling like i wanted to give back so it's nice to hear that i've been able to do that so far.
Hearing that from you is especially gratifying because i really love your stories bro. They've really been an inspiration for me when writing my first ones. I guess that if this thing keeps working out for me and we keep writing about the same stuff… well we might have a bit of a rivalry on our hands haha…
"I wish i was joking … but honestly, i've really been thinking that. And honestly, you kinda offered yourself on a silver platter for me there. I'm sure you expected something fun with this but this is the perfect opportunity for me to take you out.
What's that look on your face ? This isn't what you wanted ? Well it's too late to turn back now bud. Besides, i already know exactly how you can be of use to me from now on"
With that, i snapped my fingers. You felt the effects instantly as your body wracked with immense pain. Twisting and distorting, your body adopted a new and improved form. You saw your skin become a pristine white as your flesh and bones restructured into a tightening weave of elastic fabric. You tried to scream at me to stop but you had already been silenced. Instead, your face reshaped itself into the front pouch of a pair of Calvin Klein underwear. As you fell on the floor, you struggled to take in your newly transformed world. Your mind was intact but all physical markers of who you once was were gone. Just a nice, brand new piece of clothing for me to ruin.
"Alright dude, just out of gratitude for the good times i had reading your stories, i'm willing you make you a deal. If you manage to keep your mind from breaking for one month then i will turn you back into a human. deal ? Well, i guess it's not like you have much of a choice anyway"
I took off my current underwear : a rank, soaked and yellowed thong. I threw it to the side on a pile of sportwear, all in a similarly perverted state.
"Don't look at the pile of used clothes over there bro. I promise you that it won't make you feel any better about what's coming for you" I stroked and jiggled my fat dick "And neither will looking at this huhu"
The literal gravity of your imminent fate set in. With a cocky smirk, i picked you up and slid you up my thick legs. Your wails of horror fell on deaf ears as your face pressed against my thick package, stretching and conforming to its every contour.
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"Hehe, you hug my nuts so tightly bro. It's almost like you were always meant to be down there, servicing my musky balls."
And musky they were. An immediate sensory overload took over your brain. The instant warmth made you gasp for air but all you could inhale were fumes of sweat and dried cum. This masculine stench quickly permeated the entirety of your being, making you struggle to form coherent thoughts. To top it all, the moistness made your body stick tightly against my manhood, unable to get away from this reeking nightmare.
"Sorry about that dude. I should warn you; once i start wearing a pair of undies, i never change out until they're ruined. That means that 24/7 for the next month i'm going to wear you, work out in you, sweat in you, i'm even gonna cum in you. Oh bro, i'm gonna completely wreck you."
"I promise you that it shouldn't even take a month to completely break you. But try not to panic, there's a moment when you'll embrace your new purpose as my nice, sweaty underwear and it'll all become very pleasant. If or when that happens is completely up to you bro. You get to choose if this experience will be a disgusting or a pleasurable one. But remember, your humanity is on the line huhu."
The reality of your new life for the coming month fully dawned on you. Sweat. Piss. Cum. Constantly. What you had been writing and reading about on your blog for fun finally became your intoxicating reality. You were worried your brains were already melting. How the hell were you supposed to last an entire month ??? You were struggling and begging for mercy against my big … snug …. balls …
Your suffering psyche desperately tried to rationalize what was happening to you. Maybe this was possible … You could just … take care of my goods for a month and then … everything would be fine. You just had to …. not break…
I laughed in satisfaction as i pressed you further against my cock. Inspiration for a hot new story already struck me but i needed to go work out first. I wanted to get you all nice and soaked so that i could get you to enjoy this.
"No hard feelings bro."
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Harry was never really Dumbledore's man
So, in HBP Harry says himself:
“Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you,” said Scrimgeour, his eyes cold and hard behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Dumbledore’s man through and through, aren’t you, Potter?” “Yeah, I am,” said Harry.
(HBP, 348)
But, I'm here to argue Harry actually has many many doubts and reservations about Dumbledore throughout all books (even HBP), and I find it interesting how Harry convinced the Wizarding world (and the readers) that he's Dumbledore's man when he isn't. Not really.
(Just makes me all the more annoyed at him calling his son Albus...)
I'm going to go through some examples of Harry showing his doubts about Dumbledore way before book 7. Because Harry is an abused, distrusting boy, and Dumbledore isn't actually an exception to that until very late into the books. And even when Harry chooses to trust Dumbledore's intentions, he never fully trusts his judgment.
“D’you think he meant you to do it?” said Ron. “Sending you your father’s cloak and everything?” “Well, ” Hermione exploded, “if he did — I mean to say that’s terrible — you could have been killed.” “No, it isn’t,” said Harry thoughtfully. “He’s a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don’t think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It’s almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could….”
(PS, 217)
This quote above is from the ending of Philosopher's Stone and the outlook Harry, Ron, and Hermione have on Dumbledore and his behavior is the same as seen in the later books. So I wanted to talk about each of them and how they see Dumbledore because this quote really sets the tone for the rest of the series.
Ron is doubtful and distrustful. The situation is odd, and he's clever, he analyzed the situation and came to a frightening conclusion — the whole ordeal seemed planned by Dumbledore. And Ron isn't scared of voicing this question.
Hermione, while not always a rule-follower, respects Dumbledore and his authority. A lot. So, she doesn't believe Dumbledore could've planned it as it would reflect badly on his character and authority. Hermione is a very loyal person, and once she decides she respects someone she is willfully blind to their flaws (we see it with her later in the series).
Harry, while he's clever enough to notice the same things Ron did and come to the same conclusion — that Dumbledore planned for an 11-year-old to face Voldemort — he attributes good intentions to Dumbledore. Harry sees the situation and draws his conclusions, but chooses to hope/believe Dumbledore's intentions were good ones.
Harry’s brain seemed to have jammed. He stared numbly at Riddle, at the orphaned boy who had grown up to murder Harry’s own parents, and so many others. . . . At last he forced himself to speak. “You’re not,” he said, his quiet voice full of hatred. “Not what?” snapped Riddle. “Not the greatest sorcerer in the world,” said Harry, breathing fast. “Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn’t dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you’re hiding these days —” The smile had gone from Riddle’s face, to be replaced by a very ugly look. “Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!” he hissed. “He’s not as gone as you might think!” Harry retorted. He was speaking at random, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true —
(CoS, 282)
This is one of the scenes people call to to show how much faith Harry has in Dumbledore (even Dumbledore himself), the thing is, Harry says (in his mind) he's just saying things to try and scare Tom. To try and buy time, or unbalance Tom so he may have a chance at escape.
The important note is that Harry doesn't actually believe what he's saying to Tom. He's just saying what he thinks would bother Tom the most.
Harry had never shared this piece of information with anybody. He was very fond of his wand, and as far as he was concerned its relation to Voldemort’s wand was something it couldn’t help — rather as he couldn’t help being related to Aunt Petunia. However, he really hoped that Mr. Ollivander wasn’t about to tell the room about it. He had a funny feeling Rita Skeeter’s Quick-Quotes Quill might just explode with excitement if he did.
(GoF, 310)
This part about telling no one about his wand's connection to Voldemort is true. He never told anyone by that point in GoF. Not Ron, not Hermione, not Dumbledore, not even Sirius.
As I mentioned above, Harry is abused and distrustful. He's not at all Dumbledore's perfect soldier who trusts him with everything. In GoF, Harry decides against telling Dumbledore about his dreams and the pain in his scar:
“Your scar hurt? Harry, that’s really serious. . . . Write to Professor Dumbledore! And I’ll go and check Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. . . . Maybe there’s something in there about curse scars. . . .” Yes, that would be Hermione’s advice: Go straight to the headmaster of Hogwarts, and in the meantime, consult a book. [...] As for informing the headmaster, Harry had no idea where Dumbledore went during the summer holidays. He amused himself for a moment, picturing Dumbledore, with his long silver beard, fulllength wizard’s robes, and pointed hat, stretched out on a beach somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion onto his long crooked nose. Wherever Dumbledore was, though, Harry was sure that Hedwig would be able to find him; Harry’s owl had never yet failed to deliver a letter to anyone, even without an address. But what would he write? Dear Professor Dumbledore, Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning. Yours sincerely, Harry Potter. Even inside his head the words sounded stupid.
(GoF, 21)
Harry doesn't wish to share secrets with Dumbledore, nor does he feel comfortable to go to him with his troubles (his go-to adult while Sirius was around was always Sirius). Again, Hermione is mentioned as the one who trusts Dumbledore's authority, in Harry's head, but he's right, he knows her well.
Harry actually spends a good portion of the series purposefully trying to hide information from Dumbledore. (I'm saying 'trying ' because Dumbledore always found out, but not because Harry told him).
“He seemed to think it was best,” said Hermione rather breathlessly. “Dumbledore, I mean.” “Right,” said Harry. He noticed that her hands too bore the marks of Hedwig’s beak and found that he was not at all sorry. “I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles —” Ron began. “Yeah?” said Harry, raising his eyebrows. “Have either of you been attacked by dementors this summer?” “Well, no — but that’s why he’s had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time -” Harry felt a great jolt in his guts as though he had just missed a step going downstairs. So everyone had known he was being followed except him. “Didn’t work that well, though, did it?” said Harry, doing his utmost to keep his voice even. “Had to look after myself after all, didn’t I?” “He was so angry,” said Hermione in an almost awestruck voice. “Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary.” “Well, I’m glad he left,” Harry said coldly. “If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer.”
(OotP, 63)
Harry is angry here, true, but he doubts Dumbledore's idea of what's "safe" for him. He's actually glad for the dementors because he doubts Dumbledore would've brought him over if it wasn't an emergency.
And Harry is right to be doubtful and suspicious. He's right that he's less safe at the Dursleys than at Grimmauld Place. He's right to feel angry and betrayed at literally everyone knowing he's being followed except for him. He's right Dumbledore probably wouldn't have brought him if it wasn't for the dementor attack. Harry is correct in each and every one of his assessments of Dumbledore's character and decisions here.
“No,” said Harry, shaking his head. “It’s more like . . . his mood, I suppose. I’m just getting flashes of what mood he’s in. . . . Dumbledore said something like this was happening last year. . . . He said that when Voldemort was near me, or when he was feeling hatred, I could tell. Well, now I’m feeling it when he’s pleased too. . . .” There was a pause. The wind and rain lashed at the building. “You’ve got to tell someone,” said Ron. “I told Sirius last time.” “Well, tell him about this time!” “Can’t, can I?” said Harry grimly. “Umbridge is watching the owls and the fires, remember?” “Well then, Dumbledore —” “I’ve just told you, he already knows,” said Harry shortly, getting to his feet, taking his cloak off his peg, and swinging it around himself. “There’s no point telling him again.” Ron did up the fastening of his own cloak, watching Harry thoughtfully. “Dumbledore’d want to know,” he said. Harry shrugged. “C’mon . . . we’ve still got Silencing Charms to practice . . .”
(OotP, 382)
Remember I mentioned Harry hiding things from Dumbledore? This is one of such occasions. There are more in GoF that I didn't copy, but this is an example of Voldemort-related, dangerous information Harry is hiding from Dumbledore because he doesn't trust him and doesn't feel comfortable telling him things.
“It’s lessons with Snape that are making it worse,” said Harry flatly. “I’m getting sick of my scar hurting, and I’m getting bored walking down that corridor every night.” He rubbed his forehead angrily. “I just wish the door would open, I’m sick of standing staring at it —” “That’s not funny,” said Hermione sharply. “Dumbledore doesn’t want you to have dreams about that corridor at all, or he wouldn’t have asked Snape to teach you Occlumency. You’re just going to have to work a bit harder in your lessons.” “I am working!” said Harry, nettled. “You try it sometime, Snape trying to get inside your head, it’s not a bundle of laughs, you know!” “Maybe . . .” said Ron slowly. “Maybe what?” said Hermione rather snappishly. “Maybe it’s not Harry’s fault he can’t close his mind,” said Ron darkly. “What do you mean?” said Hermione. “Well, maybe Snape isn’t really trying to help Harry. . . .” Harry and Hermione stared at him. Ron looked darkly and meaningfully from one to the other. “Maybe,” he said again in a lower voice, “he’s actually trying to open Harry’s mind a bit wider . . . make it easier for You-Know —” “Shut up, Ron,” said Hermione angrily. “How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you ever been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order, that ought to be enough.” “He used to be a Death Eater,” said Ron stubbornly. “And we’ve never seen proof that he really swapped sides. . . .” “Dumbledore trusts him,” Hermione repeated. “And if we can’t trust Dumbledore, we can’t trust anyone.”
(OotP, 554)
Again we see the same exact dynamic from first year. Hermione is loyal to Dumbledore, not even considering he might be wrong about something, or not have their best interests at heart. Ron and Harry on the other hand, are both open to the possibility that things aren't so simple. They don't think Dumbledore is intentionally harming Harry, but they think he's wrong about Snape. Something Hermione, Arthur and Molly would never consider.
(This is actually the most annoying thing in Hermione's character for me, her unshakable faith in Dumbledore, who doesn't deserve her trust)
“. . . so you see what this means?” Harry finished at a gallop. “Dumbledore won’t be here tonight, so Malfoy’s going to have another clear shot at whatever he’s up to. No, listen to me!” he hissed angrily, as both Ron and Hermione showed every sign of interrupting. “I know it was Malfoy celebrating in the Room of Requirement. Here —” He shoved the Marauder’s Map into Hermione’s hands. “You’ve got to watch him and you’ve got to watch Snape too. Use anyone else who you can rustle up from the D.A., Hermione, those contact Galleons will still work, right? Dumbledore says he’s put extra protection in the school, but if Snape’s involved, he’ll know what Dumbledore’s protection is, and how to avoid it — but he won’t be expecting you lot to be on the watch, will he?” “Harry —” began Hermione, her eyes huge with fear.
(HBP, 552)
Even in book 6, the book Harry grows the most comfortable and trusting towards Dumbledore, even then, he doesn't trust Dumbledore. He thinks (and somewhat rightly so because he doesn't know of Snape and Dumbledore's plan) that Dumbledore is wrong about Snape. that Dumbledore is wrong about Malfoy. Harry doesn't trust that whatever protections Dumbledore would leave would be enough (and they weren't).
Even at the end of HBP, the point in the series where Harry has the most faith in Dumbledore, Harry still doesn't trust Dumbledore's judgment or his ability to protect the school. Even after Dumbledore calls Harry out on it, telling him the safety of the students is important to him, Harry still tells Ron and Hermione to get the DA to protect the school without notifying Dumbledore.
And Dumbledore raised Harry to feel responsible for the school's safety, Harry is doing what he was "bred" to do. But he does it behind Dumbledore's back, because like every adult, Harry deep down expects to be let down. After all, he's used to saving the school himself.
So, no, Harry never really trusted Dumbledore fully. At least, not Dumbledore's judgment. Harry does believe Dumbledore's intentions are good for the most part, even if ineffective.
“He never told me his sister was a Squib,” said Harry, without thinking, still cold inside. “And why on earth would he tell you?” screeched Muriel, swaying a little in her seat as she attempted to focus upon Harry [...] Where was saintly Albus while Ariana was locked in the cellar? Off being brilliant at Hogwarts, and never mind what was going on in his own house!” “What d’you mean, locked in the cellar?” asked Harry. “What is this?” Doge looked wretched. Auntie Muriel cackled again and answered Harry. [...] Numbly Harry thought of how the Dursleys had once shut him up, locked him away, kept him out of sight, all for the crime of being a wizard. Had Dumbledore’s sister suffered the same fate in reverse: imprisoned for her lack of magic? Had Dumbledore truly left her to her fate while he went off to Hogwarts to prove himself brilliant and talented?
(DH, 135-137)
And in Deathley Hollows, Harry is very quick to start questioning and doubting Dumbledore. Especially when compared to Hermione:
“Harry—” But he shook his head. Some inner certainty had crashed down inside him; it was exactly as he had felt after Ron left. He had trusted Dumbledore, believed him the embodiment of goodness and wisdom. All was ashes: How much more could he lose? Ron, Dumbledore, the phoenix wand . . . “Harry.” She seemed to have heard his thoughts. “Listen to me. It—it doesn’t make very nice reading—” “Yeah, you could say that—” “—but don’t forget, Harry this is Rita Skeeter writing.” “You did read that letter to Grindelwald, didn’t you?” “Yes, I—I did.” She hesitated, looking upset, cradling her tea in her cold hands.
(DH, 311)
Harry is hurt, he feels betrayed, because while he never 100% trusted Dumbledore's judgment, he trusted his intentions. He trusted Dumbledore was good and cared for him. He feels cold and betrayed, showing trust in his intentions. But his readiness to accept Skeeter's and Muriel's accusations so quickly shows he always had his doubts about Dumbledore and they never really left, even if he wanted to trust him, he never did, not fully.
Hermione, on the other hand, who was always loyal and trusted Dumbledore (both his intentions and judgment) 100%, tries to rationalize Dumbledore's actions and convince herself everyone who says bad things about him is lying.
Harry doesn't. Because out of the Golden Trio, Hermione was always Dumbledore's woman, Ron and Harry... not really. Not as much.
“That old berk,” muttered Aberforth, taking another swig of mead. “Thought the sun shone out of my brother’s every office, he did. Well, so did plenty of people, you three included, by the looks of it.” Harry kept quiet. He did not want to express the doubts and uncertainties about Dumbledore that had riddled him for months now. He had made his choice while he dug Dobby’s grave, he had decided to continue along the winding, dangerous path indicated for him by Albus Dumbledore, to accept that he had not been told everything that he wanted to know, but simply to trust. He had no desire to doubt again; he did not want to hear anything that would deflect him from his purpose. He met Aberforth’s gaze, which was so strikingly like his brothers’: The bright blue eyes gave the same impression that they were X-raying the object of their scrutiny, and Harry thought that Aberforth knew what he was thinking and despised him for it. “Professor Dumbledore cared about Harry, very much,” said Hermione in a low voice. “Did he now?” said Aberforth. “Funny thing how many of the people my brother cared about very much ended up in a worse state than if he’d left ’em well alone.”
(DH, 478)
More of how Harry thinks about Dumbledore, showing, again, how he always had his doubts and reservations but he chooses to trust Dumbledore's intentions because otherwise, he doesn't think he has any hope to defeat Voldemort. He chooses to keep following Dumbledore's path because he has no real choice but to trust what he sees as the only path that'll lead to Voldemort's destruction. But Harry has plenty of doubts about Dumbledore.
Hermione, on the other hand, has little to no doubts. She doesn't allow herself to doubt.
And this pattern, of Harry doubting Dumbledore again and again, never truly trusting him, just trusting his plan will kill Voldemort... like, how does that lead Harry to want to name his kid 'Albus'? I just don't get it...
TL;DR
Harry likes to say he's Dumbledore's man, but he always had his reservations, even when he choose to ignore them since trusting Dumbledore's plan felt like his only chance at survival. Hermione is much more trusting of Dumbledore than Harry is.
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moonstruckme · 2 days
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I had an art show tonight and no one showed up(strangers did, but my friends and fam didn't. They were all too busy i guess). If it's okay with you could I get some comfort from Robin? I need my beautiful girlfriend to hug me 😔😪🤧
I'm really sorry it went down like that sweetheart, I hope the show was good overall and you feel more supported if you do it again! Thanks for requesting <3
Robin Buckley x fem!reader ♡ 473 words
“I think it went well, right?” Robin sits atop the one table you haven’t folded up yet, eating mini brownies right out of the tray. “I mean, plenty of people came, and that one lady said she’ll come to your next one, too. You gave tons of people your info.” 
“Yeah.” You try to sound upbeat, packing away the last of your pieces and joining her on the table. “You’re right, it wasn’t bad.” 
Your girlfriend turns her head to look at you, mouth puckering. “Okay, you say that, but you’re still looking all mopey.” 
“Sorry,” you sigh. “I just wish they’d come.” 
The bridge of her nose wrinkles, pretty eyes squinting distastefully. “Whatever. More brownie bites for us,” she says, popping another one in her mouth. 
You try to laugh, but it’s not very convincing. Robin’s expression creases further. 
“Sorry,” she says around the brownie. Swallows. “Sorry, it’s just, it’s shitty. It is.” She hops down from the table, standing between your knees. Her ringed hands travel up the outsides of your thighs. “You were amazing today. Like, seriously. You were so good at talking to people, and everyone wanted to hear about your art, and they should, because it’s the fucking coolest, you know?” She looks into your face, seemingly to make sure you do know, and she doesn’t push you when you look away. 
“It really sucks that they didn’t get to see it,” she says, so earnestly disappointed it makes the ache of your own heart worsen. 
You twine your arms loosely around her neck, and Robin doesn’t need more urging to hug you, pushing in between your legs as her hands slide up around your lower back. You’re just taller than her like this, her face pushing into your shoulder while your cheek squishes against her hair. She holds you tight around your middle, fingers clutching at your shirt like you’ll disappear if she’s not careful. 
“We should stop going to any of their things,” she mumbles, turning her face into your neck so the words vibrate against your skin. “There are too many birthdays in a year anyway.” 
You laugh, for real this time. “No, I don’t think I’m that mad.” 
“This is the problem,” Robin sighs, though she sounds happier than before. “You’re too nice.” 
“Like you would do any different if you were me.” 
She makes a cute disgruntled sound, hugging you tighter. Something in your chest lightens. “It’s different when it’s you. I have more of a thirst for vengeance.” 
“Sorry.” You turn your face into the crown of her head, lips curving. “I hate to leave you unquenched.” 
Robin’s quiet for a second, thoughtful. “Can I at least make pointed comments about how cool your show was the next time we see them?” 
“I mean, if you really want to.” 
“Oh, I do.”
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alyswritings · 1 day
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First Period
Request: Could you write a fic where jj maybanks little sister gets her first period and her dad finds out and makes her feel really bad about it but then jj makes her feel better?
JJ Maybank x sister!reader
Summary: Y/N gets her first period.
Warnings: luke being a dick
(gif not mine)
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Y/N walks into the bathroom, pulling her pants down and sitting on the toilet. She looks down, her eyes widening at the red stain in her underwear. Her heartrate picks up, the girl quickly pulling her pants up and turning around in the mirror, seeing the red substance on the back of her pajama pants.
"No. No, no, no." She mumbles, rushing to her bedroom. She pulls the blankets back, the blood on her sheets. "Fuck." She whispers, feeling panic start to build up. She doesn't have any items to help her or prepare her for this. JJ's not even home, the boy having to work, reluctantly leaving his sister home alone with the siblings' dad.
Y/N whines as she considers going to get Luke. Maybe he's in a rare moment of sobriety and would help her. She goes to leave the room, but stops as music starts to blast letting her know she's not getting her wish.
She contemplates texting JJ, but knows they need the money and she shouldn't make him leave early, especially for something that isn't life or death.
The girl jumps as the door slams open, her father storming in.
"The fuck you doing, you useless little bitch? You were supposed to get those damn dishes done." Luke sneers, grabbing a fistful of her hair making her cry out.
"I-I'm sorry. I'll do them now." Y/N whines in pain.
"You bet your stupid ass you will." Luke seethes, Y/N flinching as spit flies onto her face. Luke starts to drag her out but notices the stain on her bed. "The fuck is that?"
"I-I got my period." Y/N admits with a shaky voice, avoiding eye contact.
"Ugh." Luke grimaces. "Don't you have shit for that?" He questions, shoving her back.
"N-no. No, this-- it's my first one." Y/N says. "I didn't-- I didn't know it happ-" She flinches as Luke punches the wall, creating a hole the size of his fist.
"You fucking idiot! You're supposed to know better when it comes to all that nasty shit!" Luke shouts.
"I'm sorry." Y/N whimpers, tears springing to her eyes.
"Don't fucking cry, you little crybaby!" He roars in her face, Y/N doing her best to hold her tears back. "Fucking stupid disgusting little bitch. God." He storms out, slamming the door shut behind him. He raises the volume on his stereo, Y/N covering her ears to block the noise out, quietly sobbing to herself.
---
JJ quietly walks into the house, listening to the silence. He waits a moment, hearing the snores emitting from his father in the living room. He gently shuts the door and creeps through the house, keeping his eyes on his dad to make sure he doesn't wake up.
Ditching his bag in his bedroom, he goes to Y/N's room, gently knocking on the door before opening it and going in, shutting the door. He looks around, frowning when he spots Y/N curled up on the floor on a blanket, her head on her knees.
"Hey." JJ gently calls, Y/N's head shooting up, the boy only growing more worried at the tear stains on her face. He glances up, noticing the hole in the wall that he knows wasn't there before. "Did he hit you?"
Y/N sniffles as she shakes her head, relaxing JJ only the slightest.
"What happened, kid?" JJ asks, crouching in front of her, brushing some of her wet hair away from her face.
"I-I got my period." Y/N mumbles, sniffling. JJ's eyes widen momentarily, not expecting that answer.
"O-okay." He says. "What happened?"
"He got really mad." She says, her voice only a broken whisper. JJ sighs, grimacing at her having to deal with Luke.
"C'mere." He tries to pull her into a hug, but she pulls back.
"No." She whines. "No, I'm disgusting."
"No, you're not." JJ denies. "This is a normal process for girls, you're not disgusting." He assures.
"No, it-- it's in my underwear and on my shorts. That's why I have the blanket, I didn't wanna stain the floor." She starts to cry as she rants. "And it's-- I didn't know what to do, we haven't actually talked about this. And it's all on my bed." She sobs, JJ finally able to pull her into a hug. He gently shushes her as she cries into his shoulder, his hand resting on the back of her head and stroking her hair.
"You're okay." JJ mumbles in her ear. "You're okay. It's okay." JJ continues to hold her until her cries start to cease.
"Okay. Hey." He pulls away, smoothing her hair down. "Get changed, clean up however much you need to, put some toilet paper in your underwear, and-- and if you're okay with it, I'll call Sarah and Kie and get them to help out with-- with the whole... supply thing. Cause I can comfort you, but I know there's a lot of options and I don't know shit about any of them." He admits gaining a watery giggle from his sister.
"That's fine." She nods, rubbing her nose and sniffing.
"Okay." JJ nods. "And pack a bag. We're going to the chateau." He states.
"What about the sheets?" She asks.
"Uh... I'll throw 'em in a trash bag and we can wash them there." JJ says. "I'll handle everything. Just get ready." Y/N nods and JJ kisses her on the forehead before leaving to let her get changed.
---
After a somewhat long trip to the store with Kie and Sarah on FaceTime, the two siblings managed to get the correct items. JJ didn't realize how much they would cost, using the last bit of money he had for them and a candy bar Y/N was eyeing at the counter.
The two are at the chateau and Y/N had taken a shower, taking care of everything while JJ put her sheets in the washer.
Them, Pope, and John B are hanging around as they wait for the other two girls to get here for a movie night.
"Hey." Sarah greets with a smile as she walks in.
"Hey, boys, Y/N/N." Kie smiles, walking in, her arms holding a few pizza boxes and six pack of beer along with a six pack of Y/N's favorite soda.
They get greeting in return, John B taking the pizzas from Kie and putting them on the coffee table.
"And this is especially for you." Sarah smiles, holding a basket out to Y/N. The younger girl lights up at her favorite snacks in the basket, along with a few period products and some painkillers. "A care package."
"Yeah. And if you have any questions, need any help, or anything, you know you can always come to us." Kie assures, smiling softly at the younger girl.
"Thank you." Y/N grins, getting up and hugging them both, the older two returning her hug with tight embraces.
"Here, baby Maybank." John B holds out a plate of pizza out to her, sliding a soda can over to her side of the table.
"Thanks." Y/N mumbles, accepting the plate and sitting back down.
'Thank you.' JJ mouths to his two female friends, both of them giving him smiles and nods.
"Can you sit with me?" Y/N hopefully looks up at Sarah.
"Yeah, of course." Sarah grins.
"Oh, come on." John B whines.
"Sorry, John B. I'm spoken for." Sarah shrugs, sitting next to the tween, rubbing her leg for a short comforting moment.
JJ reaches out and gets his own food and a beer, ruffling Y/N's hair before he sits back down.
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Cancelled
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Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: T •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •
Summary: Your plans change.
🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜
A/N: Sat on a few of these fics for ages because I'm overthinking them, but thought 'ahhh, I need to post them now in time for the event!' Having a deadline is very helpful.
Warnings: Reader experiencing some sensory issues, Jake reading smutty books, overuse of italics, typos, not beta read, rail-road sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!
Word Count: 801
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Your phone buzzes on the bed. The drone is muffled slightly by the pillow it’s under. You finish fixing your outfit in the mirror and sigh. 
The material was ever so slightly wrong today. Normally it was fine, but now the feel of it just irritated you. But this was the seventh outfit you’d tried on and honestly if you were going to make it to the restaurant by 8pm, even with Jake’s ingenious driving, you had to leave now. 
You pick up your phone, glancing at the screen as you unlock it. 
One message. 
From one of your friends you were meeting up with. Probably something along the lines of ‘see everyone soon’. Usually you were excited to see them. They were some of your oldest and dearest friends, and you loved their company. But today it just felt off. Getting dressed up and going out. Eating at a semi expensive (for your budget anyway) restaurant that you didn’t even like that much. Putting on your ‘social interaction face’. It all just seems far too exhausting. 
Your eyes widened as you read the messages on the group chat. 
‘Can’t make it, stupid traffic at the tunnel! Been stuck for 50 mins and haven’t moved!’
‘I can’t either, babysitter fell through!’
‘So sorry everyone, maybe it’s for the best, I’ve got a horrible headache and was gonna power through, but maybe it’s best if we reschedule?’
The last message had you at-ted. 
‘It’s that okay with you? Sorry you let you down! <3’
Relief floods your veins and you hastily type a, ‘no worries, let’s reschedule’, adding several happy face emojis out of paranoia that your message could be misread, before you wish everyone well and to have a good evening. 
Jake hears you throw your bedroom door open, but doesn’t glance up from where he’s slouched over your armchair reading. It’s one of those bodice-ripping paperbacks from the 80s with the fabulously illustrated covers. Jake’s guilty pleasure. While he knows that Marc and Steven wouldn’t care, and most likely wouldn’t be bothered at all by his reading choices, he also very much does not want them to know. A feeling he’s sure he should try to unpack at some point. 
But that was a future Jake task. 
Which is why he’d taken to either hiding them behind the cistern in Steven’s flat or keeping them at yours, tucked neatly on your bookshelf (with your permission) behind a row of your books. 
“You ready to go amor?” He asked as he turned the page. 
You bounded over to him, ripping your stupid, itchy top off in the process. “Excellent news!” You stopped in front of him, smacking your hands onto the armchair for emphasis. 
Jake didn’t even flinch, half absorbed in his book and half used to your dramatic flare.
“Oh?” He glanced up at you and paused, a small frown of interest crossing his face. “You don’t have a top on.” 
“Exceptional observation skills Lockey.” 
He smirks. 
“Guess what?” 
“You’re embracing a new life as a nudist?” 
“The meal’s cancelled.” 
“What?” 
“The meal’s cancelled. You know cancelled, as in not happening.” You grin.
He gives you a playful look and swats your upper arm softly with his book. (His middle finger pressed inside to keep his page.) “I know what cancelled means, why?”
“Traffic, no babysitter, and headache.” You list the reasons as you count them on your hand excitedly. 
He smiles. “Really weren’t feeling it today were you?”
“How could you tell?” You say playfully. 
“Well, you kicking the door open to tell me was a good give away.”
You laugh.
“Plus, you really were leaving it pretty fine to get there on time.” He slips his bookmark between the pages and puts the book down on the floor before inching forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and gently pulls you into his lap, giving you plenty of time to step back if you wanted to. “I know how much being late makes you anxious.” 
You snuggle up to him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek. His day old stubble rubs against your skin. But this sensation is comforting. Like home. 
“So you letting it get to this time without us going, or without you telling me off for reading instead of putting my shoes on.” 
“I don’t tell you off.” You grumble, your words muffled by how your mouth is pressed against his neck. 
Jake laughs. “Playfully.”
You tut affectionately. “Alright, playfully.” You adjust your position on his lap, getting comfortable. 
“So, what do you want to do tonight?” He presses a light kiss to your temple.
“Hmm, how about… pizza and you can read some of your smutty book to me?” 
He laughs again and kisses your lips. “Sounds good.” 
____________________________________________
Thank you for reading!
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If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here
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vsaintsin · 2 days
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Writeblr Re-Intro
Yo! I'm V Saintsin. Or V or Vin or Saintsin or whatever you want to call me that sounds right on your tongue. I'm a self-proclaimed Social Media fumbler who got a late start to the party and has never quite figured it out. I hate how hipster and edgy it sounds to say "I'm bad at social media" but like I used to work with some people who actually managed the social media accounts for the business we worked for and there were rules and whatnot and damn, I think online media is just not my medium. That being said, here I am! Hah
I'm an author and general mess who's hoping to be the miracle man (somebody who makes a living writing silly little stories). I do use a pseudonym but please hear me out when I say I didn't realize how edgy it sounds, it just has some sentimental value to my personal life. I'm so sorry that I sound like I'm in my emo phase HAHA
About me -
He/Him Transguy from the American Midwest (arguably the south, depending on who you talk to, but the older people still say "Sodi-pop" and "ope").
I'm dysautonomic, bendy, permanently sleepy, and a survivor of Crappy Doctors Who Suck At Doctoring.
I like DnD, Pathfinder, Baldur's Gate 3, Cyberpunk, Dragon Age, and other things in that vein.
I do make art of my stories and characters (Tablet is currently not working so I'm in a dry spell).
My writing background is predominantly ancient, dusty RPs from as far back as the foopets days and fanfic writing on Quizilla - I am an old and wizened elder of the net.
My formal education was music performance and behavioral neuroscience, I don't really know how I got where I am.
This is not my first rodeo with tumblr but it is the first time I have anything to SAY instead of just lurking.
In the event of malfunction, you can put me outside for 5 minutes and I'll probably factory reset.
My existence as I know it hinges on a massive number of sticky notes plastered throughout my room.
What I'm lookin' for -
Idk, whatever? I'm down for most things. Did you write it? Cool, let me see. I'm not too bent on genre or anything, just fascinated by the art of storytelling.
A bit tentative with fanfiction but that's just because if it's not a fandom I'm familiar with I am rather clueless about what the hell is going on and if it's a fandom I am familiar with I HUNT DOWN THE DEEP LORE.
I like art a whole lot, including fanart. Also art advice, love seeing things from different perspectives and learning something new.
Mutuals, really, for any reason. Building better connections on here, getting to know people. I am hideously bad at this but I try.
What I write -
Science Fiction with heavy subjects that matter to me - trigger warnings on a story-by-story basis.
High Fantasy (eventually books I think?) characters and their backgrounds for DnD and Pathfinder - I have been tempted to share these to help people get ideas or just for free use?
Things that I delete because I have crippling imposter syndrome and publishing makes me nauseous (doin' it tho).
Stories that I hope will make people feel less alone or that people could relate to, stories that I wish I had when life was worse and I was reaching out for anything I could find to keep me afloat, stories that try to be critical of things that SUCK in a way that's any helpful.
Lots of curse words and cussing (that's just how people talk 'round here), dubious science, things that I hope might make you cry but in a good way though.
Character-Driven stories that revolve more around the development of the person and less around the plot itself if that makes sense.
I've put blurb things below for my primary project/series which features a grumpy, queer, 37-year old chain smoking Frenchman and his misadventures with life and love and unbridled rage. If any of that sounds cool stick around and hang out? (This part is a plug bc I did a thing and I'm proud of it) And if my books sounds interesting the first one is 99 cents on Kindle and you just need a phone and a free app to read it!
THE SECRET OF LIFE (Published) - Sci-Fi/Psychological Thriller, Bi M Lead, Lovers to Enemies, AI but the oldschool cool kind not the real world thing that's stealing our future
Carlisle-Trystan Antoinette is a mercenary on a hard road, navigating life and death itself in an infinite cycle started by powers above his understanding. He has one mission - warn The Dianican Space Station of the coming threat and put a stop to a war that would encapsulate the whole of the Sol System before it can ever begin. Unfortunately for Carlisle, reality is a tenuous thing, made up only by our understanding of it. At least, according to his Psychiatrist, who tells him that there is no war, that he was never a mercenary, and that what Carlisle is experiencing is a severe but manageable psychotic break. Stripped of his combat enhancements, his bio monitor, and everything he's every known, Carlisle has a decision to make. Does he give in to the thoughts and memories, so real that he can almost taste them, or does he live a life of comfort and ease, returning to a husband and daughter that he left behind?
TWs: Domestic and War Violence, suicide, rape, medical trauma, grief, drug use
THE SILENCE OF ANGELS (Due July '24, TSoL 2) - Betrayal and Rage, Learning how to love again slow-burn romantic subplot, Learning how to Dad, A general inability for any one thing to just go right
(Quick Rough Blurb that offers no spoilers for TSoL) Making connections isn't easy for somebody who's accustomed to burning bridges. Isolation has always been Carlisle's mantra for surviving his life. Playing a role comes second nature, pretending to be the man that everyone else wants to see in him. When an old friend is murdered Carlisle finds himself as the primary suspect with all evidence pointing to him so clearly that even he calls to question what he is capable of. Unwilling to believe that he could commit such a heinous crime, Carlisle sets off to find the truth of his friend's death - was Carlisle framed or does he truly have the capacity to bring such harm upon those he loves? Old and new bonds will be tested, faith broken, and the future of everyone called into question as lines are drawn and sides are picked.
TWs: Violence, mentions of SA, graphic character death, more grief, more death
I don't know what else to say... Later!
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max1461 · 10 hours
Text
I guess...
I've made some posts criticizing the mindset/priorities of "tech people" recently, and I think I've been a little bit unfair. I hope it's clear by now that I don't have an inherent problem with people who value different things than me. But I guess I'm just a bit salty about this, for probably a couple of reasons.
I used to consider myself a "tech person", when I was a lot younger. As a kid/early teen (in the 2000s) I started learning to code, and I wanted to either be a game dev or a penetration tester when I got older. I spent a lot of my time in online tech spaces, of various sorts. And I remember a different tech culture. I remember a culture that was... what's the word, mischievous? Unruly? People who wanted to take things apart and put them back together again, people who wanted to break things and reverse engineer things just to prove that they could, people who valued, I don't know what to call it, fucking around? And people who did not want to be told what to do. That old(er) tech culture is where I learned most of my left-libertarian sensibilities in the first place. I guess it was "hacker culture", in the very broadest sense of that term.
But the "tech culture" I see today, even from people my age and of my approximate politics, is just not the same? It's so fucking self-serious. It's not playful, it's not rebellious. It's about Changing The World (i.e. reshaping the world in the image of tech people). That's what I dislike about it so strongly. It's big, it's universalizing. It's not "I don't want the Man to mess with me", it's "I want to invent the new thingamabob that'll reshape everyone's life in five years". Not that doing that is necessarily bad, but aspiring to it is... I don't know, troubling to me?
And here's where I have to talk about rationalism, because rationalism (I don't want to generalize unfairly, but let's just say... in a lot of cases) epitomizes this attitude to me more than anything else. This self-seriousness so extreme that it almost feels religiously-inflected. It's about the whole future light cone, it's about optimizing the timeline. I just, it makes me fucking uncomfortable to be around that kind of talk!
[This post, by the way, was prompted by the recent statements of Balaji Srinivasan, which are another prime example of the shit I am talking about]
And, look. I want this post to be understood as basically personal in nature. Whatever my political or object-level disagreements with Yudkowsky, Alexander, Srinivasan, or any others may be, I don't need to articulate those disagreements with an attack on their Weltanschauung. I think it is valuable that people with many different sensibilities exist in the world, and I think, like most any other, the sort of grandiose and zealous sensibility represented by the 2020s tech-adjacent intelligentsia probably provides worthwhile perspective in various domains. But I can't help resent it a bit, because it's pretty much as far as possible from my sensibility, and I feel like I just can't get away from it! It keeps showing up in places that I'm trying to spend my time!
Ah well. I know this was fairly critical, and if you're a big rationalist light cone type of person, I... am sorry for being so critical. I really do support you in Doing Your Thing, at the end of the day. I just wish the general set of attitudes I see from that crowd could maybe be a bit less totalizing, and a bit more friendly to other sorts of people pursuing other things under other auspices. I don't know.
Now that I've said my piece, I'll try to be less passive aggressive in various posts.
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The Nurse Pt 1.
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You laid on the cold, hard hospital bed starring at the ceiling, trying your best to hold back your tears. Your tears were the final thing you felt you still had some control of, the final connection you felt you had to your masculinity, they fell despite your best effort. The diaper wrapped around your midsection warmed as you felt urine trickle over your now hairless balls and absorb in the soft damp padding under your cheeks, as if to confirm your masculinity was indeed a thing of the past.
You tried not to let the diagnosis replay itself in your head for the millionth time, but it seemed, as if with all things, that too was out of your control. "The surgery had some unexpected complications." "Fully incontinent" "adult briefs". You ventured a feel under your blanket. Hand running under the hospital gown to collide abruptly with smooth plastic. You ran your hand over the swollen bulge probing gingerly at the soft padding. It was so thick you could hardly feel your own dick through all of the padding. 
"Diapers", you thought, "I'm going to be stuck in diapers for the rest of my life." The tears came unabated now. 
There was a sudden knock at the door, and it creaked open. 
"Mr.... Mr. Smith?"
You quickly pulled your hand from under your sheets, and tried to wipe the tears from your eyes.
You clear your throat and sit up with a sniffle. "Erhm, yes. Yes that's me."
You were dismayed to see the nurse that entered the room was some 5 years your junior, and absolutely beautiful. You could read on her face that your attempts to hide your emotions had been futile. She wore a mask of sadness and pity. 
"I'm sorry, do you... do you need a minute?" She asked, brushing her hair back anxiously with her fingers.
"No, no. I'm... I'm fine." You say trying to regain your composure. "What, what is it?"
"Well I'm here to ummm, well, to get you cleaned up."
"Oh..." you stammer, the reality of the situation donning on you. "No, there's no need for you to do that. I can manage it I'm sure."
"Yeah, um, I'm sure you can, but you see it's hospital policy I'm afraid. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I uh, well I do this all the time, haha." She chuckled the last part uncomfortably.
"What? Why is that hospital policy? I promise it's not an issue."
"Yes, I know I know. I wish that wasn't the case, but I'm sure you can understand, a lot of our other patients who have... recently started using protection, are much less capable of you, and well some of them get embarrassed as well. We, need to be certain that you're changed" she paused "that you have adequate protection until you are discharged from our care. It's a legal thing, I'm sure you understand, right? Plus! Looking at your chart it seems we're just holding you overnight for observation, so you'll be out of here and on your own by tomorrow morning! Isn't that good news?"
Tears once again stung the back of your eyes. "Please be quick." You affirmed with a crack in your voice. 
The nurse nodded curtly and started pulling on her nitrile gloves. From under your bed she produced a fresh folded diaper, a plastic tube of ointment, a large plastic bottle, and a package of wipes. 'So much equipment' you thought. So much is needed for me just to use the bathroom now.' She placed all of it beside you and stopped.
"I'm Sarah" she said.
"Matt." You replied looking away.
"Nice to meet you Matt. I'm sorry that this is happening to you. But you should know you're not alone. I see patients everyday that need to wear protection. I know it seems like the end of the world right now, but I promise in the grand scheme of things it's really not that bad."
You nod quietly, afraid to speak for fear of loosing your cool, and crying through your first diaper change as an 'adult'. You knew she was lying. How many diapers did she ever change on a 30 year old man? ZERO. That was your bet.
"Now, I understand this is your first time wearing a brief?"
"Diaper" you thought, lips pursed tightly. She didn't continue. Finally you nodded.
"Right, well, with you being discharged tomorrow I'm going to show you some things ok. I promise I'm a real pro."
With that she unfolded the tightly packed diaper and crumpled it back and forth in her hands, as if to advertise: this is how loud and noticeable the diaper will be.
"We call this floofing. It breaks up the material so it's softer and more absorbent." She explained. "Now," she pulled your hospital sheet off of you and began to pull up your gown.
Reflexively you grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand away.
"Mr... Matt, please. I promise it's nothing I haven't seen. I'm trying to 'be quick' remember?"
You release your grip on the soft smooth skin of her forearm and let your hand fall. Suddenly ashamed and embarrassed at your outburst. 
"I'm sorry." You stammer, stealing yourself for the inevitable. 
"That's ok. I know this must be hard for you." She says pulling up your gown to reveal your sodden yellowed diaper. 
You couldn't help but look down at yourself. The infantile plastic fabric mounded between your legs seemed huge. Worse yet it was stained yellow, with your piss. "When did I do all that?" You thought. For the first time since Sarah had entered a tinge of fear overpowered your humiliation. "Do I really have that little control of myself now? Am I really that broken?"
As if answering your unspoken questions, Sarah continued. "Now, if you're changing lying down, you'll want to place the fresh diap.. brief underneath yourself in case you have a little accident midway through. That way it will all go in the new brief. Can you lift your butt up for me."
This was all too much. You numbly thrust your diapered crotch into the air for the whole world to see. Not least of which this poor beautiful woman beside you, whose face was practically pressed up against it, forced to endure changing the piss soaked rags of the invalid before her.
She daftly slid the unfolded diaper beneath you. "And down. Very good!" She nearly cooed. "Now, we just take the old one off." With each deafening rip of tape your anxiety built to a crescendo. Finally the sodden diaper lay tapeless across your shame. Sarah smiled a fake smile to no one and peeled back the top of the diaper to expose your hairless, piss covered groin to the room. You looked down at yourself, and at her sitting beside you. You felt as though your dick wasn't even yours anymore. Useless now, dribbling pee at random, and hairless, shaved while you were out during surgery. It looked and felt so juvenile. YOU looked and felt so juvenile, you thought. And you to make everything worse you were experiencing your new body for the first time with this beautiful young stranger. You glanced over at her, as if to find some comfort, some understanding, but there was nothing but the same sad, pitiful look on her face.
"Now, your number one concern with incontinence is actually skin care." Sarah said putting on a brave face. "So you want to make sure you clean up thoroughly during every change." She explained pulling wet wipes from their packs. 
You flinched away as she began to wipe you down. 
"Sorry, they're cold." She said smiling at you, and making eye contact for the first time since the change began. 
They were cold, but you weren't sure that was exactly why you flinched. Perhaps it was the obscene humiliation of a complete stranger wiping your own piss off your most intimate area, and a beautiful stranger at that. 
It occurred to you that just a day or two ago, the only interactions you'd have had with a beautiful woman and your dick would have been a fun sexual encounter. This couldn't be any further from a sexual encounter, despite having her gloved hand petting your dick at that very moment. You weren't a sexual partner. You were just a smelly, humiliating burden. 
"Now, I know you probably don't want to hear this, but if I were you, I would continue to remove your pubic hair. I know that may make you feel... a certain way, but trust me, having hair down there makes clean up WAY harder, and it can hold in smell, and you DEFINITELY don't want that. But of course that's totally up to you. That's just my two cents!" She finished cheerily.
Just when you thought your humiliation had peaked, more is piled on. You had assumed your hair removal was part of the procedure. That you could grow it back like the man you are. But no, being clean shaven is just another part of being in diapers.
"Ok! You're all clean! So now you can change into your new brief!" She said with false cheer. "Lift up."
For the final time you thrust your groin into the air, right by this poor woman's face. She pulled the sodden diaper from beneath you, and you lowered yourself onto the fresh diaper. 'Never not in a diaper' you thought. 
"Very good." Sarah said rolling up your used diaper. "You can roll these right up like this and tape them back closed like this." She explained, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to teach someone how to dispose of their used diapers. "Now. Remember how I said skin care is  super important?" You nodded numbly. "This is where you will want to be very meticulous with that. The first thing I like to do is apply the barrier cream. According to your chart you're fully incontinent correct? And the doctor explained what that means?"
"Yes." You mumbled meekly.
"So we expect you'll be passing stool into your diapers as well." She paused, presumably catching herself using the 'd' word, then powered through. "Prolonged exposure to your feces will break down your skin much faster than urine, so you'll want to change yourself as soon as possible. However that's not always possible, so it's highly recommended you apply a barrier cream"
'You'll be passing stool into your diapers' she had said. YOUR diapers. YOU WILL BE SHITTING IN YOUR DIAPERS. This is your reality now. Presumably for the rest of your life.
Sarah squeezed a line of ointment onto her gloved index finger. "This should be about how much you want. Oh! And definitely you'll want to wear gloves. These ointments can be really greasy." She explained.
Without further explanation she reached down and pulled your nutsack back and slid her lubed finger between your cheeks. You could feel her smearing the greasy ointment outward across your butt. 
"Make sure at the very least you cover your bottom, and the back of your scrotum. That's the area most likely to be in contact with feces."
To your absolute horror, you felt your member began to grow at her touch. Pulsating as it filled with blood, despite your state. It was all just too much. Tears again began to fall silently down your cheeks.
"Oh!" Sarah exclaimed despite her attempts at professionalism. She looked back at you and exclaimed again. "Oh, no, no, no. Please don't cry. This is totally natural. I completely understand it's all beyond your control. And hey, this is really really good news for you right. We were uncertain in the procedure would result in importance as well right?"
Your tears continued unabated.
"Hey hey hey!" She continued trying to console you, "this is great news! Your dick still works! Right!" She smiled jokingly, relieving some of the tension in the room.
You smiled despite yourself. Wiping the tears away and nodding. "Thank you." You said.
"Ok, ok we're almost done! Hang in there." She said. "This is just oil. I'll be honest it's J&J baby oil. There's no getting around it, that's just what works as an all a round barrier to protect your skin." She was rushing now. Clearly as eager to get this over with now as you were.
She splashed a few dabs onto your groin where your hair used to be, and started rubbing it in around your now fully erect penis. 
"Just try and cover all of your private area with this AT LEAST once a day. I recommend after your morning diaper change when you're out of the shower. But after every diaper change would be better" She had dropped all pretenses in her hurry to get away from your erection that had become the hairless elephant in the room. 
You noticed with dismay that while Sarah oiled you up, urine trickled from the head of your penis onto your stomach, pooling a bit and rolling down your side into the fresh diaper beneath you. The realization that you truly had NO control dawned on you fully. What good was it being able to have an erection if it was always going to be leaking piss anyway?
"Ooops!" She said cheerfully, wiping the fresh urine off of your stomach. "Ok! Last bit, is the powder!" She said not missing a beat. She explained all of the different types you could purchase as she sprinkled the flagrant powder over your glistening freshly oiled erection and balls. You didn't catch much of what she said. All you could think about was the smell. Baby. It was baby powder. You smell like a baby now. And why shouldn't you? wrapped in your diaper, and covered in your own fluid. It was only fitting you now also SMELL like a baby.
"....use this EVERY TIME you change." She finished. "And that's it! Now we just tape you up."
She pulled the top of your new diaper up and over your penis. Pinning your still erect penis to your tummy.
"And then it's just one, two, three, four." She explained as she taped the fresh diaper in place. "Some people like to tape a different order, but that's what I like." She said, hurriedly pulling your gown back down to cover your new diaper before you had a chance to inspect it.
"Now what I would do," she explained "is stand up and test the fit. That's important if you change yourself laying down."
After such a thoroughly humiliating experience, you felt absolute relief at once again being covered and hidden from her, even if it was just by a thin hospital gown that did little to nothing to hide the outline of the diaper. Slowly you sat up and swung your feet over the side of the bed and stood. You winced painfully at the surprisingly loud crinkles your diaper made along the way. Finally you stood. You were a full head taller than Sarah you noticed. It felt weird standing in front of her like this. So close. Your boner, fully known to both of you, still straining against its new plastic prison. 
"Now how does it feel?" She asked "run your fingers along the leg holes to make sure it's not too tight there. You can always readjust accordingly."
"It feels pretty humiliating." You said half jokingly.
You hoped it would lighten the mood some, but she just looked at you with the same sad pity. 
"You'll get used to it. You'll see. This is your life now, and it's best if you try not to fight it. Okay? You'll be alright. Just a learning curve is all." She smiled and threw your used diaper in the trash by the door, and sorted your supplies back under your bed.
You shifted uncomfortably on your feet, feeling the slick ointment between your cheeks, and the heft of the diaper between your legs. You stopped moving to avoid the obvious crinkles you were producing not wanting to draw attention to it. Dumb you thought, given all that just happened.
Satisfied with her cleaning Sarah stood to leave. "I'll be on shift all night ok? So just press that button there if you need anything. It was nice to meet you Matt. You're going to be ok"
"Thank you Sarah." You said abashedly.
She turned in the door, "and Matt,"
You looked up expectantly from your diaper bulge.
"When your penis settles down, reach in and point it back towards the bottom of your diaper, or you'll leak." She smiled, nodded and was gone.
"Your diaper" you said quietly. You wear diapers now. "And you'd better get used to it."
END OF PART ONE
As part of an AI Art experiment, please feel free to edit the photo used in this caption. If you enjoyed this story and would like to see it continue, please submit your edited photos to me. 
Thank you.
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wenutted · 2 days
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Hello. I'm sorry if this is sudden but I was wondering if you could make a platonic Neuvillette story with a little angst with the reader being the youngest of his 3 children and they were extremely stressed especially after Lyney and Lynette's trial along with Neuvillette and the readers mother getting divorced so their older brother and sister Elliot and Odette who were twins decided to take their little sibling out to get their mind off of everything but when Neuvillette realized his children left he went to the traveller, Paimon and the readers best friend and longtime crush Lyney for help and Neuvillette was not happy his children just left without saying anything. (If you're not okay with writing this that's completely alright and I wish you a good morning/afternoon or good night, you can also change Elliot and Odette's names if you want to)
Platonic!Neuvillette & teen!reader (ft. Uh... ocs, technically, I suppose)
[Warnings]: Spoilers for the Fontaine archon quest, and death
[Notes]: Apologies, but I removed the Lyney part, as I only write platonic characters. I hope you understand!!
—————
-> Too much.
-> This has all been too much for you.
-> Everything feels like it's happening at once.
-> At first, it had been bearable. As heartbreaking as your parents' divorce was, you and your siblings had long since noticed them falling out of love, and were already expecting it.
However, what you weren't expecting was the long custody battle that took place afterward. Frankly, you didn't understand why either of your parents cared so much, as you weren't particularly close with them. Normally, you, Elliot, and Odette spent most of the time locked away in your rooms, instead of really interacting with your parents.
Regardless, all of the paperwork and court cases were really annoying and stressful.
And as soon as you thought you had gotten a break, everything falls apart again.
—————
-> Lyney and Lynette's Magic Show was supposed to be a form of relaxation, after all of the stress you've been enduring.
You were incredibly excited. Your good friend, Cowell, had even managed to secure you and your siblings front row seats!
The actual performance itself was spectacular, too! Each act leaving you inching further away from your seat, eyes sparkling.
...Until the finale— where the water tank snapped from its bindings and came crashing down upon the 2nd box— with an all-too-familiar mask floating along the rapidly spreading water.
Your heart sank immediately as the theater fell silent. Cowell, Lyney and Lynette's assistant, had been murdered. Not only that, but a girl had gone missing, too— leading your mind back to several old cases. You were now a first-hand witness to the serial disappearances case.
—————
-> You didn't even get any time to mourn before the court case began. And you managed to barely hold it together throughout the case.
Elliot and Odette were incredibly worried. They weren't particularly close with Mr. Cowell, but they know you were friends with him, and given how you've basically been teetering on the edge of a breakdown for the past couple weeks, the twins weren't sure how much their baby sibling could take.
Safe to say, as soon as the trial is over, the twins practically drag you out of the Opera Epiclese; more than eager to empty their wallets to take everyone's minds off of the recent tragedy.
In the end you all book a few hotel rooms, and decide it'd be best to just stay in for a while.
—————
-> To be frank, it takes Neuvillette quite a while to notice his children have disappeared— after all, none of you are particularly close, and he has a lot of paperwork to go through— especially now.
By the time he does notice, it has already been a few days. He tries to remain calm about it, but by the time dinner rolls around and still no one's home, Neuvillette can't help but begin worrying. Where were you all?
Again, Neuvillette tries to wait it out, but the longer you're gone, the more he worries. Usually, whenever you, or your siblings, left for longer than a day, you'd tell him first.
So, it only makes sense that when he manages to pass the Traveler on his morning stroll, he immediately asks them to search for you.
You best bet papa Neuvillette is happy to see all three of his children return home on the same day. Albeit he still lectures you about your unannounced leave.
Completely worth it, though.
—————
[A/N]: I was planning to add some dialogue after that last blurb, but I've been procrastinating on this for quite a while, and I wasn't sure what else to add, this was super fun to write, regardless!!!
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wttgwnc · 19 hours
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Larissa X Fem Reader
A/N: Hi! First of all I'd like to say that this one-shot was inspired by one of the one-shots by @cakexblankett thank you to her for letting me draw inspiration from her <3 I'm sorry if this is badly written but it's the first time I've written this so please don't judge! :) I hope you like it anyways. (Sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my first language)
Warnings: !! everyone is over 18 !! NSFW
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You're a student at Nevermore Academy; You love social networks but you don't like your classmates to know about your accounts, so you hide behind a username. For some weeks now, you've been chatting to a woman named ‘redcherry’ on Instagram. At first your conversations were cute, but as the days go by they become dirty and sexual. You know almost nothing about this woman, just as she knows almost nothing about you. You've already seen parts of her body when exchanging photos, but you've never exchanged photos of each other's faces. This woman is really dominant, she demands that you call her ‘mommy’ and she decides what you do in every photo you send her. You scroll through your phone when ‘redcherry’ sends you a message. It's already quite late and it's often in the evening that you chat to her.
redcherry: Mommy is so bored… i wish you were here.
You: I'd love to be with you too, mommy.
redcherry: Send your beautiful body to mommy.
You don't think twice and you send her a photo of your naked body.
redcherry: You're so beautiful and sexy, my sweet girl.
You: Thank you, mommy.
redcherry: I really want you to be with me. Come and join mommy, my darling.
After this message, the woman will send you her address. You hesitate but you decide to go anyway, so you get up and get dressed in a beautiful black dress and you leave Nevermore, taking care not to be noticed. Arrive at the door, you knock on it a little so that she can hear you and you wait for her to come and open it for you. The door opens and you fall in front of your principal. As you look at her face, you realise that she wasn't expecting to see one of her pupils at the door.
Larissa: Miss Y/N..
Y/N: Principal Weems..
You both look at each other, you're quite surprised at all the women who live in Jericho, it had to be your principal in front of you. For you it's not a problem because you've always found her very beautiful and hot.
Y/N: I- I'm going to leave
Larissa: No wait ! uh … stay, it could be our secret.
You think about it and finally accept, you couldn't refuse a night with your principal. You enter your director's house, she doesn't wait and walks towards you, hesitating a little but then placing her lips on yours. At first you are surprised, but then you remember all your messages and photos, so you let yourself go. Her hands roam over your body a little and when you try to touch hers, the blonde woman grabs your hands, slams you against the wall like a poster and locks your hands above your head. A soft moan escapes your mouth as Larissa goes for your neck, putting her hands on it. A slight moan escapes from your mouth while Larissa attacks your neck, she leaves some mark of lipstick, she stops for a moment and she looks at you
Larissa: if I do something that you don’t want or when I go too far just say "red" and I stop everything immediately
You nod, she smiles softly as her hands find the closure of your dress, she lowers it slowly and she drops your dress at your feet. Then she places her hands under your thighs and she carries you to her room. She puts you on her bed before moving away and approaching her coat of arms. She takes out a black box and she opens it, you can’t see what’s inside but you trust her. She comes back to you with leather handcuffs in her hands, she looks at you as if to get your approval and you just nod. She smiles before taking your hands and tying them to the litau over your head.
Larissa: Were you a good girl for mommy ?
Y/N: y-yes mommy..
Larissa smiles with satisfaction at seeing you submit as you do through a writing for several weeks. She looks at you before placing herself between your thighs, she attacks everything from barking your upper body, she lowers her head towards your nipples, with her tongue she attacks your left bud, she sucks and bites it. With her hand she attacks your right bud, she turns it a little between her fingers and gently pinches, moans escape from your lips. A smile is drawn on her face when she feels your pink buds harden. The woman gets up again and she returns to the black box, this time she takes out a tissue, she returns to you and she sits by your side.
Larissa: Let’s see how to develop it all other senses.
The blonde approaches the tissue of your face and she attaches it to the back of your head to cover your eyes, a smile is formed on your lips. Larissa gets up and you hear her take off her dress in order to wear only her underwear while you are there on the bed, hands tie over your head and your eyes blindfolded. She comes back to see and she places herself between your legs, she begins to deposit kisses inside your thighs. Your underwear quickly joins the other clothes on the floor, the blonde plunges her head between your thighs, her tongue drags between your folds, something that makes you moan. Larissa plays with your clitoris before bringing her tongue into you, you are surprised by this and your mouth forms an "o" before a moan comes out of your lips. The woman explores your heart with her tongue as you turn into a mess of moans. The woman's thumb finds your clitoris and your moans become more acute.
Larissa: cum for me, baby
This sentence makes you go overboard and you cum directly into Larissa's mouth. The woman goes up to you and kisses you, your taste makes you moan. Then your Principal removes the blindfold from your eyes and she detaches you. You are lying in Larissa's bed, your chest goes up and down while you try to respond to a stable breathing. Larissa leaves the room and she comes back a few seconds later with a towel filled with water, the woman gently cleans you before leaving to put the towel back in the bathroom. When Larissa comes back, she sees you half asleep, she puts herself next to you before putting the blanket on your two bodies, the blonde kisses your forehead before falling asleep in turn.
Part 2 ???
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totallyunidentified · 20 hours
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She's Safe
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Am I evil for posting this on bad batch eve? maybe.
The force ghosts have cursed me for hopefully the last time.
I'm sorry. I wrote this in an hour so its really short i just had to get it out.
Spoilers?? Probably.
Dedicated to a friend who's tik tok inspired me
TW: Main Character death.
She's here. 
She's safe.
She’s hugging him.
He's slipping.
She tries to hold him up. 
He slips through her fingers.
Laying on the ground all he can sense is her next to him.
Hunter’s helmet hits the floor.
When had he taken that off?
Her eyes find his and she’s saying…something 
Why can’t he hear her?
Everything is muffled like he has his noise dampening on in his helmet, but his helmet is on the ground.
How did he get here?
Where is here?
Tantiss, he remembers. 
Omega.
They couldn't find her. 
Crosshair and Wrecker had fought. 
Who would guard the doors? 
Who would stay behind to fight the squadrons of troopers trying to follow them?
Neither letting the other say the words they all feared. 
Hunter had slipped out.
Hitting the keypad on the way.
He made sure his little brothers were safe. 
He was not going to lose another one.
He ignored the sounds of fists against durasteel.
And stood in front of what looked like hundreds of troopers. 
He had raised his hand to the side of his helmet and activated his com. 
“Get her. Get Out. Plan 99.”
With those words he had let a single tear roll down his face, hidden behind his helmet.
He had taken a deep breath letting go of everything outside that room. 
Everything but Omega.
He had to make sure they could get her out.
He had fought. 
And fought.
And fought. 
They kept coming.
He kept fighting.
Fighting for her.
Fighting for his brothers.
So they could live.
He wished that this didn't have to happen. 
That they didn't have to go through this again. 
But his family is strong. 
Resilient.
He wouldn't be here if they werent.
He takes another trooper down and not for the first time wishes he could have seen Omega one more time. 
He’s covered in injuries, bruises. Parts of his armor cracked.
Gouges in the plastoid where a blaster shot had gotten just too close. 
He kept fighting. 
He wasnt going down without the fight of his life. 
But one man against hundreds?
He was good, but not that good. 
He’s disarmed. 
His vibroblade was thrown across the room. His blasters in another corner.
He got hit. 
Arm.
Leg.
Side.
This was it.
He wasn’t going to see her grow up.
The troopers had all started closing in on him.
He had raised his fists ready to go down swinging. 
Then he felt a huge explosion.
He heard over a fallen trooper’s com that the Zillo beast had gotten out.
He laughed. Laughed! Because he knew that that was his family.
He was unstable but had remained standing. 
He heard the blast doors being wrenched open.
He heard his daughter call his name. 
And he turns and smiles.
“Omega”
She's here. 
She's safe.
He's dying.
His mind races. 
He won’t be there. He's going to miss everything.
Sure he will miss his brothers too but he grew up with them. 
He will never see Omega grow up.
Never see her go to school like a normal kid.
Never see her get married. 
He’d never see her become the strong young woman that he can already see the foundation of today. 
As the dark spots grow larger and his chest grows heavier he is only able to look in Omega’s direction and say so softly she barely hears it.
“I love you.”
He can barely see Wrecker and Crosshair behind her. 
His fight is over.
But Omega is safe.
She’s safe and that's all that matters. 
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wild-magic-oops · 4 months
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The first time Durge tops Gortash: I'm- I'm... bhaals deep
Gortash: ...
Gotrash: Get your dick out of me immediately
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avdmai · 7 months
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The Dragon Reborn.
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shopcat · 1 month
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omfg people really need to calm the fuck down about people disliking some characters like it's not always a deep seated prejudice or an inability to empathise it's because we are human beings with our own experiences and normal biases and fictional characters are not real and it doesn't matter if you don't like them for pretty much any reason at all and doesn't make you suddenly x just because the character is y it just means you don't like them. obviously other indications of actual prejudice or a repeated pattern mean something else entirely but you can just dislike a character because get this they're a character and not a real person. you can dislike real people too even it's almost like we've got free will. please oh please can we get out of the torture chamber together.
#🐾#just saw the dumbest post ever i wish you could take away someone's keyboard#saw someone say it was inherently misogynist to not like zuko's damn mom like omfg#she's literally a 2 dimensional nothingburger i'm sorry i don't give a FAUCK 😭 people are so damn annoying#i don't like her cuz of the way she treated azula and OBVIOUSLY!!! because my own mother hates me and abandoned me but loves her other#children. and OBVIOUSLY!!!! this means i seriously don't give a fuck about her and honesrlt wish she (ursa) were dead and You know what..#it doesn't MATTERRRR SHES NOT REAL. GET A FUCKING GRIP 😭 FICTION IS A REFLECTION OF REALITY#obviously i would and do feel differently about complex family dynamics irl but you know what's not real irl either. FIRE MAGIC#YOU BRAINDEAD IDIOTS SERIOUSLYYY#every actually ridiculously insane motherfuckerrrr who claims all ursa ''haters'' are inherently morally Wrong just make me hate her more#like awww yeah it is so sad. it's so sad to abandon your children and favour one over the other and also enable all of your husbands#actions that's so sad#ngl i don't really care that much but people who act like the wife of the colonist is 100% innocent is crazy#and treating her like some sad trapped victim who also has no free will is like... Well it's not NOT racist#like she was not actually trapped considering she you know left and was always fully capable of doing so#okay this was obv a rant i won't delete it but like tldr harmless biases like this seriously don't hurt anything and don't make ppl who#don't like her Woman haters. esp bc most ppl who don't like who do it bc they Do love azula 😭 but for me personally it's just like sorry#she's a bad mother. and i have no mother anymore. So i'm allowed to hate her. ..
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thisismeracing · 4 months
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Since when did we start charging money on patreon for fanfics 😭😭😭😭 is this for real😭
hi, love. I haven't seen that many people doing the Patreon thing when it comes to fanfic, but it's pretty common for people who draw for example to set up a Patreon. I believe that everyone who does, just like myself, needs the money. I wouldn't be doing it if i didn't need to. I figured the Patreon setup was the best idea since it's not really that common for people to tip writers, we've been struggling with getting reblogs and comments, so you can imagine.
Right now, I'm applying and doing tests to get an internship, which still won't be enough because I'm also trying to apply for a master's. So, yeah, I'm really thankful for everyone who tipped me on ko-fi and subscribed to my Patreon, last month my savings were over, and the Patreon money was what helped me pay for some medical stuff I needed (Idk if you saw the whole mick schumacher's sick club, but yeah — huge thank you for everyone who subscribed/donated btw).
We often see fic writers as little robots who don't eat, drink, or sleep. We request stuff, and expect an instant reply, and when we get the content we don't even go back to the page to tell the writer our thoughts. We don't reblog, nor leave comments, but still, we expect them to keep writing and keep sharing everything as if it didn't take hours, sometimes days to come up with a 1k piece polished to what we think readers will like best. I hope I don't sound rude, I'm just trying to make a point because I'm tired of seeing writers deactivating, tired of seeing my friends getting writer's block and then people still demanding things.
On top of that, I'm still posting a lot here, from smau to blubs and long fic requests (and I won't even talk about how some pieces aren't even getting a hundred notes, which always makes me wonder if I'm doing something wrong, if my writing is bad, or if there's anything that I could do to make the reader's experience more enjoyable), and it takes a lot of time, it's even harder to balance the two profiles now, but still, I keep sharing some of my work for free. so please, please, don't make me feel bad about needing money. thanks ❤️.
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grinchwrapsupreme · 4 months
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nothing I love more in a secondhand book than a note written to someone in the cover
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