I’m sitting here waiting for therapy and just kinda resigning myself to the fact I’ll have to be on disability. But I do need my taxes to do that. And with no one responding about 2 of my W-2s, I’m kinda wondering if I’m really meant to enjoy life.
But. My roommate woke up this morning and made a positive post on social media and it’s making me glad. Making me have hope. So phone calls will be made, and therapy will be done.
And I pray I can live on $80 a month from the state.
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everyone has their stories that they don’t read out loud but one day I hope you can read it out loud without it hurting as much and finding someone who is willing to listen to it without judgement
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It hurts to think you could ever be gone from my life.
You are more entwined into me than my own veins connected to my heart. I'd quite literally die without you.
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ੈ♡˳ imagine you're wearing logans dog tags as you ride him. 18+
you're rolling your hips on him, riding him just how he wants. his firm, calloused hands grip your hips with purpose, digging into your flesh so hard it will surely leave bruises. he wants to leave bruises, evidence of how much he wants you, needs you. growling like a fucking animal as his cock slides in and out of you with ease, each slap of his hips connecting with yours earning soft moans from your lips and rough grunts from his.
he loves staring into your eyes while he fucks you, watching those pretty eyes of yours roll back into your skull - but not tonight. tonight he can't help but be mesmerised by the way his dog tags around your neck bounce each time he thrusts. the soft jingling of the metal fills his ears, adding to the sounds of skin on skin and ragged gasps.
fuck, they looked so good on you. his rough fingers trail across your lower stomach, snaking their way to the tags. the metal around your neck, a sign that he owned you, watching the metal coined with his name slap against your soft skin rhythmically.
"that's it," he yanks the chain suddenly, causing you to gasp and place your hands on his fuzzy chest to steady yourself, "atta'girl. . ." logan coos, as he pumps up into you, meeting your every movement. by now, he knows your wet hole is just aching to be filled. it started aching the moment you crawled into bed beside him.
every. single. night.
and you're his, you know you're his, you've given yourself completely to him. your hand grips around his on the tags as if solidifying this, silently granting him ownership.
logan grins, feeling his cock twitch inside you.
you looked so pretty with his name around your neck.
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a lot of YA and fantasy stuff has always been a little cringe and silly but at least it used to be cringe from the heart instead of designed in a lab to get teens on tiktok to use a certain sentence from it
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writers wishing they could draw whats in their head
🤝
artists wishing they could write whats in their head
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butch nonspecific bean bag bears. they should let me design toys for children actually
their names are handy, married, grease, and freak ❤️
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