actually when i first cut my hair to a pixie it was bc of dysphoria (i think i was 13?) and in 2015 i started growing it out again but then everyone was like “no one’s gonna take u seriously as a boy when you’re growing it out” so i got an undercut and then bleached it to hell,, then it got shaved. now here i am growing it out bc i’ve learned not to give a damn about what white cis ppl think abt my hair
*A plastic coffee stir stick can fool any push in coin acceptor that loads the coins on edge. Just insert stir stick, push the mechanism forward until you feel the stick hit a bump, push the bump down with the stick and push the mech all the way in
*If you look like you know what you’re doing, no one will bother you.
*When lying, always include something slightly embarrassing, or something that makes you look bad, as part of your story. It’s not only going to disarm their skepticism (admitting to something embarrassing gives an impression of humility), but even if they remain skeptical, they’ll be left wondering why you would make something up that you’d rather keep secret if it were true
*Using Clorox or any bleach will turn the red/pink liquid detection dot on electronic devices back to white so they replace them under warranty
* “A drug dealer in DC taught me to pick my nose if the police are staring at me. No one picks their nose if they think someone is watching them, so it’s the ultimate way of being nonchalant.”
* "I learned that you can get into almost any special event by wearing a chef coat. Even just carrying one and walking like you know where you’re going will work every time. Most people don’t want to look stupid by asking you who you are.“
* "My go to missing work call was never "I’m sick”, it was “Family problems”. They never questioned it, it’s vague enough and embarrassing enough that nobody ever asks.“
*As part of the employee training at Target, they teach you that if a customer argues over a price, and the full price is under $20, to just give it to them for whatever price they claim. It’s cheaper for the company to move on to the next customer than to call in a price check.
*Put a rolled up sock in the change slot on a vending machine, come back back 4 days later….and pull sock….you will be 6-ish dollars richer.
*If it’s a small lie, like who farted or who put the empty milk carton in the fridge, I’ll tell a terrible lie. I’ll not be able to hold a straight face, contradict myself, basically suck at lying.Now everyone I know thinks I can’t tell a lie to save my life. So when I really need a big lie, I nail it every time. No one ever suspects me when I lie straight faced.
*Bring crutches to an airport. Bypass every line (including boarding) and you are chauffeured to your gate the second you pass through security.
*Make up a secret to share with someone- they may open up and share far more valuable real secrets.
*Here’s a classic. Drive over to your 7/11 of choice. Fill up a Slurpee and drop some candy bars in that bitch. Make sure the candy bars aren’t showing. Cover the Slurpee and pay for it. Free Snickers bitch.
*I tell everyone i’ve never done any drugs. Suddenly everyone offers me cocaine, ecstasy, pot, lsd. I think i’ve had $200 worth of drugs each weekend for free.Same with liquor. "Im not drinking tonight” BOOM! Everyone gives me booze. Its like everyone wants to break your integrity as soon as you tell them you are not doing whatever they are doing.
*If you need to cash from an ATM and its not a large amount, buy a 5 cent piece of gum from a gas station that has the cash back option. Its cheaper than a $3 charge
*Act less intelligent than you really are. Acting stupid can get you out of some tricky situations. Feigning ignorance is way better than admitting you knew better but did it anyway. My old man used to say ‘It is easier to beg forgiveness than ask for permission’…sometimes it’s true.
*Every time I fly, when I land I’ll pen a little complaint to the airline that flew me. You know, I’ll come up with something like “oh, they denied me a drink! Oh, the food wasn’t vegetarian!” Whatever miscellaneous hogwash potpourri comes to my crazy brain. And like clockwork, within a business day, they’re reimbursing me with a $50 voucher, a $100 voucher, I can sell that on the secondary market.
*I’ve always had a lot of success in shutting nosy people up by blaming any personal issue on allergies. Crying from a panic attack? Allergies giving me puffy eyes. What’s that mysterious pill I’m taking? Allergy meds. Why am I acting spaced out/hungover/tired? Allergies meds making me drowsy.
*If you really wanna get away with some shit, buy a reflective vest, a white hard hat, and a clipboard. You can go ANYWHERE.
well now i’m on an aliens kick. also, i just went in my kitchen to get some ice water and walked in on a fucking roach orgy because no matter how much i clean this apartment is fucking ghetto so let’s talk about how aliens would react to human pest control methods.
“Why is Stacy cleaning the dishware? We have cleaning robots to do that for her,” asked Qwerty (his full name was much, much longer, but because it was written with every letter of one of the more commonly used human alphabets, and something about early digital communications, the humans on the I.S. Dastallria had given him the nickname).
Xorzit’ket shrugged as best as her anatomy could manage the borrowed gesture. “Why don’t you go ask her?”
What she means: The old man and the sea is the story of a fight between an elderly, accomplished fisherman, Santiago, and a really big fish. Like… HUGE. The story opens with Santiago suffering eighty-four days without catching a fish because he’s the unluckiest son of a bitch on planet earth. Manolin was forbidden by his Ma and Pa to fish with him. But as the Fresh Prince used to say ‘Parents Just Don’t Understand’ so the boy visits Santiago’s shack anyway, ignoring the inherent risks of unsupervised playtime with an elderly man who talks to himself. Manolin helps out, moving Santiago’s fishing gear, making food and talking about baseball. Especially Joe DeMagio: who used to bump fuzzies with Marilyn Monroe. The next day Santiago tells Manolin that he’s going way out into the Gulf Stream. WAY OUT north of Cuba. Lady luck is returning! On the eighty-fifth day of his crappy luck, Santiago drops his line, and by noon, gets a bite from what feels like a big ass fish. He’s sure it’s a winner. He fights and fights and fights, but can’t pull the monster in. Santiago’s leaky old boat is pulled by the fish for two days and nights as he holds on for dear life. Even though he’s bloody and beat, Santiago begins to appreciate this mighty adversary. He starts calling him “brother”, or maybe even “bro”. It’s sort of a love story if you really think about it. And like most romantic comedies, the reader pictures a delightful outfit changing montage, followed by the inevitable interspecies wedding. But on the third day, Santiago is freakin’ EXHAUSTED, and decides he just wants the fish to do what he says and not always swim wherever it wants. So he stabs it. With a fucking harpoon. It’s a mess. Super gross. Blood everywhere. Because, like many men his age, Santiago has difficulty expressing his emotions and fears with words- instead giving in to base desires- and imposing his gigantically terrible positions on any given subject through unblinking violence, Typical. Anyways, he straps the Marlin to the side of his skiff and hits the road home, ready to act like a total showoff to everyone and probably gouge people on the price. But guess what? Pretty soon sharks begin to attack the bleeding marlins carcass, because as we all know, life is a tragic opera and just when you think you’ve finally found something good and true, sharks come along and rip it all to fucking shreds while dry humping your dignity with their crazy weird shark dicks. Sure, Santiago tries killing a few of them, but drops his harpoon because his hands are just as old as he is. By nighttime, the sharks have pretty much eaten the entire marlin. Only a bleach white skeleton remains, silently mocking him in the murky darkness. Santiago realizes he’s still unlucky. REALLY unlucky (duh!) He calls the sharks “dream killers”. Which isn’t really all that fair, I mean, the sharks were just doing their job and the marlin… Jesus, don’t even get me started on the marlin! It was just hanging out one day, minding its own business, maybe thinking about ways it could be a better provider for its family and WHAM! Harpoon in the brain, who’s the “dream killer” now, fuck face? The hypocrisy is pretty much boundless and this point. Eventually Santiago makes it ashore, leaving the bones of the marlin and the boat, he hobbles to his shack. He makes it home and crashes, like I said, he’s super tired. The next morning, a group of fisherman gather around Santiago’s boat. One measures the skeleton and, holy shit-shingles! It’s over 18 feet! The head of the fish is given to Pedrico (strange that this is the first mention of him) and the other fisherman ask Manolin to send their glad tidings to the man. Manolin brings Santiago newspapers and coffee when he wakes and they decide to fish together again. Many years later there’s a Red Lobster Restaurant in nearly every city in America, offering a casual dining experience and convenient parking.
Summary: Dean finds the blog you use to read smutty fan fiction. And of course, he decides he can write a better story about himself. You help.
Warning: Smut, some dirty talk, mutual masturbation, all kinds of fan fiction clichés
Word Count: 4350
A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. And thanks to @littlegreenplasticsoldier for being a great beta and being generally flawless. Hope you enjoy! XOXO
No. This isn’t happening.
This is one of those moments you’d had weird nightmares about, dreams that left you embarrassed and feeling all icky the next day until you finally convinced yourself that it wasn’t real. And just like those moments, this one will end any second now. You’ll wake up in some motel bed, Dean will be in the next room with Sam, asleep or showering or eating or anything but standing over your laptop with that look on his face.
<b><p></b> <b>Me:</b> </b> *gets into new thing*<p/><b>Me:</b> I can't imagine my life without it.<p/><b>Brain:</b> You literally spent YEARS without it.<p/><b>Me:</b> I CAN'T IMAGINE MY LIFE WITHOUT IT.<p/></p><p/></p><p/></p>
Daddy married a new lady. She’s supposed to be my new mommy but I don’t like her very much, and ever since she started living here I’ve been getting sick.
She’s very good at pretending to be a good mommy. She gives me fresh soup and warm tea with all the honey I want. But she’s still not mommy. She’ll never be mommy.
I cry and cry to daddy for him to send her away but he tells me to hush. He tells me that she is doing her very best. That she cries over my health. I should give her a chance.
And the more she takes care of me, the sicker I get. I get so sick, that I end up in a hospital! The doctors make me better, and send me home after a few days.
And then I get sick all over again.
And it happens again and again and again, until the nurses know me by name. The doctors like to ask my daddy lots of questions about mommy. A strange man in a suit and a nice smile talked to me about her too.
I’m so happy. Daddy says my fake mommy was going away, and I’ll never see her again. He looks so mad, but I know he’s not mad at me.
He doesn’t know I was the one pouring bleach in the soup she used to give me.
I straighten the covers and place the money in my safe box under the bed. Another night of work. I laugh at my own statement. Ha! Work! All you do is take rejected men’s money for a wild time.
I haven’t been doing this long. Only a couple months, but I’ve made more money than you can believe!
I know how people look at me. I see the stares of shame. How some women cross the street trying to get as far away from me as possible like they might catch something.
They wouldn’t. I don’t let any man go there. Only one man has ever taken me there. Only one man I will ever let go beyond the methods I use on other men. No one has touched me since the day he was murdered.
As I scrub the filth away from my body I think back to how Jerome took me. He had different ways of making me feel head over heels. Some nights he would take me hard and rough where the bed would get close to breaking, than other nights when he was feeling love sick he would worship me. He would thrust passionately kissing my body and telling me how beautiful I am.
I step out of the shower leaving the painful memories behind. I wrap a towel around my body and go down to the kitchen to make a drink. I get out the ingredients for a rock hard drink but then a knock on the door interrupts me.
I sigh and open it to see a man with cash in hand. He raises his brow and pushes past me. Is this really my life? He throws the money at me and sits on the sofa.
I walk over to him and set the cash on the hood in his trousers. “It’s late.” I say and make my way to the door to open it for him. He laughs and throws the cash at me with force. “Suck it whore.” This man was clearly drunk and out of his mind to think he can talk to me like that.
Though financial worries enter my brain. I need the money. I need it to get away from here. I sigh and rest on my knees giving the man what he paid for.
Once done I stand up quickly and feel like I should rinse my mouth out with bleach. Just then another knock rings out. A loud one. One of demand.
I move to open the door. “I can see why you’re so popular dollface.” I grasp the handle hard and turn to him with a displeased expression. “Don’t-” “CALL HER THAT!” A screaming voice beats me to it. I know that voice.
I open the door thinking I’m crazy. I’m hearing voices again. I swing open the door to see him. “J-Jer-” he places his finger against my lips and strides into the room seeing the man. He turns to me with fire in his eyes. “Did he touch you?” I shake my head gripping my towel closer to my body scared.
Jerome comes closer and I take in his appearance. Staples? I have to say it’s not his worst look.
The man on the couch scoffs. “No. She never lets anyone get in there. To stubborn. I’ve got to say she makes up for it man. Come here and sit. She does magic.” Jerome laughs. “Oh I know. She’ll ride me like a good girl any day.” The man once again scoffs. “Ha sure! She’s not gonna let some random person in there!” The man laughs.
Jerome turns to him with a smirk. “Oh I’m not a stranger. I was her first isn’t that right darling?” He asks lifting my chin up. “Well go on baby girl. Tell him how I’m the only one who’s ever touched your pussy.” Jerome moves me in front of the man and grips my hips. “He’s the only man to ever touch my pussy.” I say feeling Jerome move his hand beyond the towel and run his fingers over the skin of my hip. I shiver under his touch missing him exceedingly.
The man on the couch slaps his knee with a jealous expression. “Oh man! Lucky you! You’re okay with her doing this though? That’s what I call a working relationship!” Jerome’s hand goes further and slips between my wet folds. He circles my clit with pressure making my body lean into his. Jerome laughs and removes his hand. Instead he lifts up the back of the towel and grips my ass. “Actually no. You see I’ve been gone for a while. This is news to me. I find this…humiliating, and revolting.” Jerome then fiddled with his own trousers and releases himself. I feel him from behind as he starts to rub his head across my wet folds. The man on the couch just stares as if he’s in heaven.
Jerome laughs. “My my my doll. You really haven’t let anyone touch you. So tight I can even thrust into you, but as for you…enjoying the snow?” Jerome thrusts hard entering me. Filling me up like he use to. I arch back into him wanting more. Needing more. The man on the couch looks at me and nods his head.
Jerome laughs and pulls out a gun. He places the barrel to my head as he continues to thrust into me pulling my hair back. “Should I shoot you? Hm? Do you deserve to live knowing the things you’ve done? You dirty whore. Who do you belong to?” “You. You Jerome!” I moan out enjoying the blissful pleasure he’s bestowing upon me. “That’s right doll! I want you to do so for me okay?” Jerome whispers in my ear. “Shoot him.” Jerome says placing the gun in my hand.
I aim the barrel at him and pull the trigger with a rush enveloping me. The mans blood splatters on the wall and he falls completely limp. Jerome growls and rips the towel away turning me around. “You’re in so much trouble.” He says and pushes me against the wall hiking me up and thrusting into me hard and fast. I place my arms around him moaning his name over and over again. “Say it again doll. Scream it.” He says and moves his hand to rub my clit. I toss my head back against the wall in pure pleasure. “Jerome!” I moan out.
He moves to sit on the couch next to the dead man still spilling blood. “What do you say princess? You wanna ride me?” I nod eagerly and place myself above him cock and sliding down on him. Jerome grips my hips as I bouch on his cock making us both feel pleasures we haven’t had for a year.
Jerome rubs his fingers against the blood on the man’s wound and covers his hand in the thick red liquid. He proceeds to trail his hand down my body making a line from my breast, to my stomach, and right above my crotch. “Ah you’re such a good girl. You’re going to cum aren’t you? Go on doll. Cum for me.” I do as he says and release on him and seconds he fills me up with his own cum.
Jerome moves my hair out of the way and kisses me. “You’re mine. Don’t be so stupid to think otherwise. No other man looks at you. Ever! Understood?” He caresses my cheek with a smile. “Yes J.” He laughs and picks me up. “Then why don’t we make up for lost time? Sound good?” I smile and kiss his nose. “Sounds perfect.”