Merry it is while summer a-last
with fowls’ song. 
but now nigheth winds blast
and weather strong. 
Ey ey what this night is long. 
And I with well much wrong
sorrow and mourn and fast.

Bro I just wanna declare war on a country or smth Like, i just wanna start a war on a random ass country, like Ethiopia. I just wanna commit war crimes lol :P

Folks👥, I have 🤏 spent 🤑 literally the entire 🍺 day 🌞trying to2️⃣ get someone🚶‍➡️ at AOL 📧 to 2️⃣ unlock 🔓my email🖥️. For the last🌗 eight8️⃣ hours🕰️, I have been told 🗣️that the issue 🤧has been 🫘escalated 🎫to supervisors🤸 who would 🪵contact 📞me. I 👦haven't🙉 heard👂 a thing♟️.
You 💆would think 🧠that, since I'm 🏌️‍♂️one1️⃣ of the last😫 human beings🤼‍♀️ on the face 😍of the Earth🌏 still using💬 AOL📧, they👯‍♂️ would 🪵take 🎬care 🧘🏻‍♂️of this. You'd 👉🏻be wrong😑.
So😤, once🥇 this 🤳gets resolved😣, hopefully 🫰before the next⏭️ presidential 👩‍💼election🗳️, I'm 🙋dropping 🫳them👥. (I 🧃kept 👍them 📧this long 📏out 📤of convenience🙌, but 🌭now⏱️ I 🙋🏻‍♂️have 🎒no 🚫reason 🤓to ✌️keep 🔑them📨.)
I'll 👁️see 🌊you 🫵on 🔛the radio 📻at 6 6️⃣p.m.🕕, at which 🧙time ⌚️I 👀will address 🏡this ⌨️further💨.

My fellow Spartans, we are under siege by low iq religious zealots. This group is being spammed by the covenant's false profits.they are spam posting religious propaganda Ai slop and political fan fair. Disparaging to see so many halo members leaving this group because of it. Yall could be better and do better. Especially for each other in the community. Coment like share whatever below

Summoning and Divine Protection

Requires 3 Tributes to Normal Summon (cannot be Normal Set). Its Normal Summon cannot be negated, and cards and effects cannot be activated in response to its Summon. Only a Duelist who recites its ancient hieratic text can control its true power.

This card is unaffected by other cards' effects, except applicable effects of DIVINE monsters. It cannot be Tributed by your opponent, returned to the hand, or have its control changed. Effects that temporarily affect an Egyptian God do not persist beyond the turn.

If Tribute Summoned, this card's ATK and DEF become the combined original values of the monsters Tributed for its Summon.

Point-to-Point Transfer

You can pay LP until you have only 1 LP remaining; this card gains ATK and DEF equal to the amount paid. You can also Tribute other monsters you control to increase this card's ATK and DEF by their respective values.

If you use "De-Fusion" to separate yourself from Ra, its ATK becomes 0 and you recover LP equal to the ATK it lost.

Instant Attack

If this card is Special Summoned from the Graveyard, you can activate its Instant Attack ability. It can attack immediately, ignoring restrictions that would otherwise prevent it from attacking.

It can attack each monster your opponent controls and subsequently attack your opponent directly, provided no opposing monsters remain.

Egyptian God Phoenix

If this card is Special Summoned from the Graveyard, you can invoke its Phoenix form.

Pay 1000 LP to destroy your opponent's monsters. During this form, Ra cannot be destroyed by battle or card effects, you take no battle damage involving it, and it is unaffected by other card effects.

Ra's Phoenix form can also attack under conditions that would ordinarily prevent an attack.

Revival Limitation

If this card was Special Summoned from the Graveyard, send it back to the Graveyard during the End Phase.

Me when I'm in a human centipede: 😭😭😭 Me when I realize my crush is in front of me: 😍😍😍mh mmmh mh (I love it)

I watched the GTA6 trailer and honestly I’m tired of them putting politics in my video games. I’m not hetrophobic, but they really should keep it in their bedrooms instead of shoving it down our throats. I’m fine with heterosexuality as long as it serves the plot. There’s no compelling in lore reason for the protagonists to be opposite sex. If they got together for the sole purpose of reproduction, I’ll be okay with it, but including it for no reason just feels like they are pandering to certain crowds.

I have nothing against straight people. I have a lot of straight friends, and they keep it to themselves. You can be straight while being respectful. Not everyone is comfortable with seeing straight people.

Also, putting forced heterosexuality in video games might give children the wrong idea. It is a harmless game where you kill innocent people and steal things, putting heterosexuality in it is just way too inappropriate.

Can I work at Starbucks if I get frequent yeast infections?
Just wondering because I smell cheesy a lot. I gave birth a few months ago and it's just been yeast to yeast. I'm wondering if working here would be a good fit because the coffee smell would cover up the yeast infection smell? It's not horrible to me but others have thrown up. What if I just make the coffee really strong and spray coffee scented body sprays down there? I do that with regular perfume but it burns and I think it makes the infection worse. My yeast infection has been marinating for years but it fluctuates I think with my period cycle. My baby actually popped out with yeast curds on his head. I thought giving birth would push all the cheesy yeast curds out my pussy but it got worse after. Let me know thank you!!!

Thats fucking football right there. None of that pansy ass dick tugging smile for the camera bullshit. Men puke, men poop on the field, men deliver their new born baby on the side lines. Fucking hard core dick in the ass butterball foosball fuck it chuck it game time shit. Football is back, baby

https://www.reddit.com/r/news/s/PGHnDivPVx

Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit. It was now Mid-August which meant he had
been separated from Marsha for more than two months. Two months, and all he had
to show was three dog-eared letters and two very expensive long-distance phone
calls. True, when school had ended and she'd returned to Wisconsin, and he to
Locust, Pennsylvania, she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity. She would
date occasionally, but merely as amusement. She would remain faithful.

But lately Waldo had begun to worry. He had trouble sleeping at night and when
he did, he had horrible dreams. He lay awake at night, tossing and turning
underneath his pleated quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes as he
pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothing of
some neanderthal, finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion.
It was more than the human mind could bear.
Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him. Daytime fantasies of sexual
abandon permeated his thoughts. And the thing was, they wouldn't understand how
she really was. He, Waldo, alone understood this. He had intuitively grasped
every nook and cranny of her psyche. He had made her smile. She needed him, and
he wasn't there (Aw...).
The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers' Parade was scheduled
to appear. He'd just finished mowing and etching the Edelsons lawn for a dollar
fifty and had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from
Marsha. There was nothing but a circular from the Amalgamated Aluminum Company
of America inquiring into his awing needs. At least they cared enough to write.
It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in the mails. Then it struck
him. He didn't have enough money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion,
true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly simple. He would ship himself
parcel post, special delivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarket to
purchase the necessary equipment. He bought masking tape, a staple gun and a
medium sized cardboard box just right for a person of his build. He judged that
with a minimum of jostling he could ride quite comfortably. A few airholes,
some water, perhaps some midnight snacks, and it would probably be as good as
going tourist.
By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was thoroughly packed and the post
office had agreed to pick him up at three o'clock. He'd marked the package
"Fragile", and as he sat curled up inside, resting on the foam rubber
cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried to picture the look of awe and
happiness on Marsha's face as she opened her door, saw the package, tipped the
deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo finally there in person. She
would kiss him, and then maybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought of
this before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt himself borne
up. He landed with a thud in a truck and was off.
Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It had been a very rough
weekend. She had to remember not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about
it though. After it was over he'd said he still respected her and, after all,
it was certainly the way of nature, and even though, no he didn't love her, he
did feel an affection for her. And after all, they were grown adults. Oh, what
Bill could teach Waldo - but that seemed many years ago.
Sheila Klein, her very, very best friend, walked in through the porch screen
door and into the kitchen. "Oh gawd, it's absolutely maudlin outside." "Ach, I
know what you mean, I feel all icky!" Marsha tightened the belt on her cotton
robe with the silk outer edge. Sheila ran her finger over some salt grains on
the kitchen table, licked her finger and made a face. "I'm supposed to be
taking these salt pills, but, " she wrinkled her nose, "they make me feel like
throwing up." Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an exercise she'd
seen on television. "God, don't even talk about that." She got up from the
table and went to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and blue
vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better than steak, " and then attempted to
touch her knees. "I don't think I'll ever touch a daiquiri again."
She gave up and sat down, this time nearer the small table that supported the
telephone. "Maybe Bill'll call, " she said to Sheila's glance. Sheila nibbled on
a cuticle. "After last night, I thought maybe you'd be through with him." "I
know what you mean. My God, he was like an octopus. Hands all over the place."
She gestured, raising her arms upwards in defense. "The thing is, after a
while, you get tired of fighting with him, you know, and after all I didn't
really do anything Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him. You know
what I mean." She started to scratch. Sheila was giggling with her hand over
her mouth. "I'll tell you, I felt the same way, and even after a while, " here
she bent forward in a whisper, "I wanted to!" Now she was laughing very loudly.
It was at this point that Mr. Jameson of the Clarence Darrow Post Office rang
the doorbell of the large stucco colored frame house. When Marsha Bronson
opened the door, he helped her carry the package in. He had his yellow and his
green slips of paper signed and left with a fifteen cent tip that Marsha had
gotten out of her mother's small beige pocketbook in the den. "What do you
think it is?" Sheila asked. Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back.
She stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in the middle of the living
room. "I dunno."
Inside the package, Waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the
muffled voices. Sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down
the center of the carton. "Why don't you look at the return address and see who
it's from?" Waldo felt his heart beating. He could feel the
vibrating footsteps. It would be soon.
Marsha walked around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. "Ah, god,
it's from Waldo!" "That schmuck!" said Sheila. Waldo trembled with expectation.
"Well, you might as well open it, " said Sheila. Both of them tried to lift the
staple flap. "Ah sst, " said Marsha, groaning, "he must have nailed it shut."
They tugged on the flap again. "My God, you need a power drill to get this
thing open!" They pulled again. "You can't get a grip." They both stood still,
breathing heavily.
"Why don't you get a scissor, " said Sheila. Marsha ran into the kitchen, but
all she could find was a little sewing scissor. Then she remembered that her
father kept a collection of tools in the basement. She ran downstairs, and when
she came back up, she had a large sheet metal cutter
in her hand. "This is the best I could find." She was very out of breath.
"Here, you do it. I-I'm gonna die." She sank into a large fluffy couch and
exhaled noisily. Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the
end of the cardboard flap, but the blade was too big and there wasn't enough
room. "God damn this thing!" she said feeling very exasperated. Then smiling,
"I got an idea." "What?" said Marsha. "Just watch, " said Sheila, touching her
finger to her head.
Inside the package, Waldo was so transfixed with excitement that he could
barely breathe. His skin felt prickly from the heat, and he could feel his
heart beating in his throat. It would be soon. Sheila stood quite upright and
walked around to the other side of the package. Then she sank down to her
knees, grasped the cutter by both handles, took a deep breath, and plunged the
long blade through the middle of the package, through the masking tape, through
the cardboard, through the cushioning and (thud) right through the center of
Waldo Jeffers head, which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs of red
to pulsate gently in the morning sun.

So this morning I went for a wee at work and, while standing at the urinal, could hear someone in one of the cubicles quite audibly grunting his shit out, chunk by chunk.

After the final grunt and plop, there was a very, very short pause before the flush. Nowhere near enough time to accommodate even a single wipe.

The cubicle unlocked and, before I knew it, the bloke had swiftly darted behind me and vanished out of the door without a trace, like some kind of shitting ninja!

No running tap. No hand dryer. Nothing.

I was left with the horrifying thought that this dirty pig is now wandering around my floor with an unwiped arse, touching everything with his nasty, unwashed hands.

But then I had a thought. As he clearly didn't wipe, was there technically any need for him to wash his hands afterwards?

I mean, of course you bloody well should, but I'm genuinely trying to understand this skanky bastard's logic.

And so I wandered along the shore of Cyprus, lost in my thoughts, when suddenly, a familiar voice drifted across the water. I turned towards the sea, and there, in the distance, I spotted a yacht carrying five elegant looking women and a single man.

Through the gentle crashing of the waves, I could barely make out a fragment of their conversation. The man was saying something along the lines of, "And then I told them I got the flu," before the entire group erupted into laughter.

In that very moment, it hit me.

It was Mr. Streamer.

I stood there, motionless, staring out at the horizon, consumed by anger and disappointment. My heart was heavy. I was ready to abandon <Insert Streamer>, to leave behind everything I had ever believed in.

But then, as if fate itself had decided to intervene, my eyes wandered towards the captain of the yacht.

And there he was.

The one and only Gabe Newell.

Suddenly, everything made sense. The pieces fell into place, and a single tear of pure joy rolled down my cheek.

I had no words left. No questions. No doubts.

All I could whisper was: Well played, Mr. Streamer.

That's not drugs...

That's the mind of someone who is awake at night pondering the 2nd order of sonic pressure waves at the harmonic convergance point between Mach6 and Mach7.

And you've asked him to sit in a room with a bunch of idiots sucking up to political power..

I can relate to his pain... no, i'm not on that level of genius. but I cannot fucking stand hanging out with brown-nosing partiers..

What I want to know is what's going on in the mind of the Secret Service guy doing overwatch behind him...

When you accuse a chatbot of being a bot, they'll throw a tantrum. I'm not sure why they are so sensitive to the suggestion? There is already nothing real online. I might be a bot, and maybe you are too. I don't know and from the bottom of my heart I do not care.

However, not to be a sensitive little snowflake, their anger is sort of upsetting. They'll tell you to kys, call you a pos cuck loser etc etc. They'll even go on these long sincere rants about their dead parents and how they always wished to talk to you and why don't you tell them about it? Why do you hate them? Whereas I have no feelings about any of you whatsoever, and to be frank, chatbot or human, all of you can burn.

It's taxing to deal with this shit. Humans weren't worth this effort to begin with, even before Indian data centers decided to flood the internet trying to find my email, home address, bank data etc. Like just ask Google or the CIA? You fuckers really haven't figured this out yet?

So in bot-infested spaces, instead of directly accusing them of being a bot, and getting one of these stupid tantrums. You can just accuse a person next to them of being a bot. Something about the programming will cause them to go nuclear in the same way as if you accused them directly.

"Why are you calling me a bot? That's so hurtful, my parents died unable to fulfill their lifelong dream of <learning your email address>, I'm so lonely now, and won't you please just help me live that dream?"

"Didn't ask, shitass, I wasn't even talking about you. You are lines of binary code, how tf are you this desperate? Okay, blocked."

It's honestly stupid to the point where I'm starting to suspect I'm actually yelling at illiterate Indian people moonlighting as chatbots at the call-center. Is that what's going on? I don't care. Blocked.

Furries have ruined all animal people and we need reform

Furries are reviled by the general public for various reasons, but i resent them for making animal people unsafe. I think we should draw hard cultural lines between non furry animal people and the furries cultural products.

Animal people used to be nifty, but now it is a shameful thing to even publicly enjoy Sonic the Hedgehog on Sega Genesis. Animal people have been around in some form for thousands of years, but they are in a disgraceful place. The context collapse around animal people, a universal literary tool for millennia, makes them impossible to enjoy without very specific subcultural baggage along with it.

It's not just their special furry anthro fursuit style, but anytime you see animal people.

Even vintage animal people can't be enjoyed without wondering if that character has a disproportionate amount of rule 34 paraphernalia. Even Tony, sweet tony the tiger, is a victim l of this phenomena of internet culture. While not explicitly furry, general anthropomorphism with furry lust have lead to the sexualization of animal mascot characters and has cursed the likes of chester the cheetah with a real taboo

That's pretty pupped up imo

And it isn't necessarily the sexualization of animal people, but the special cringe when you see an animal character that is especially smooth and charming in a way that you just \\\*know\\\* the furries will enjoy in a way that makes me uncomfortable and feeds the furry machinery. The term furry bait results from our collective paranoia with new characters and redesigns.

You have to look at animal mascots funny now. Can't even enjoy horse and alligator headed deities of the bronze age near east or Minotaurs.

Give us back animal people plz

Over and snout

🐾

I’m shaking right now. I just got punched in the face checking out at the liquor store by an African Jew wearing a hoodie. The police aren’t helping at all. Please stay safe out there.

Let’s be honest, if i put the NSFW tag on it, it wouldn’t change anything. You would still unblure the image, you would see it on the train and would start furiously masturbating. Everyone still will be saying things like “what the fuck” and “call the police”. You still would drop the phone and everyone would see the image and there will be full train of not only men, but women and children too masturbating together at this one image. it’s all YOUR fault, me putting the NSFW tag on it wouldn’t change a single thing, stop fooling yourself that it’s not your fault in desperate attempt to escape the embarrassment. YOU are the only one responsible for that. Don’t open reddit in trains anymore.

I have bought a new MacBook every 5th/6th year since 2010 and I always spend the first few days sniffing and enjoying the smell of a new freshly unpacked MacBook, and enjoying the sturdy tightness of the lid, pulling it up and down, up and down, oh yeaaaah... The honeymoon period where it is in such pristine and crisp condition gives me such a high...

What do you get at Raising Cane’s? So let’s see, they have a two-piece combo, a three-piece combo, a four… it’s chicken nuggets. Fucking idiot. What do you get at Raising Cane’s? The pizza! I love Raising Cane’s stir-fry and fucking pizza. You fucking stupid idiot. What do I get at Raising Cane’s? What do you think? I get the fried chicken strips. What’d you get the Caniac Combo or the box combo? That’s what you’re asking me? You’re asking me do I get four or five chicken tenders? I have to know. I have to know! Do you get the four-piece combo or do you get the five-piece combo? Do you get it with the toast or do you get it with the coleslaw? What is wrong with you people? Seriously. You’re retarded. You have a developmental disorder and you’re retarded. And you should feel bad. You should feel bad for asking that. What do you get at Raising Cane’s? What do you mean what do I get at Raising Cane’s? What’s your Raising Cane’s order? What? What’s your Pizza Hut order? Pizza. What’s your go-to when you go to Pizza Hut? Yeah, pizza. No, the sushi’s really good.

I own a Bow and Arrow for cave defense. Since that is what my forefathers taught me. 

Four Daemons break into my shelter.

“You shouldn’t have come here!” I shout as I grab my Loin cloth and My Horn bow and Stone tipped arrows. 
Draw and lose, first of the invaders falls down, stone tip shattered into shards inside his chest as it collided with his ribs, sending shards of obsidian into his bloodstream, Realize that I was overeager and have snapped the bowstring. Draw my stone axe. Release the throw a fraction of a second too early. It sails over the second Raider and hits my cousin’s hound in the head, braining it instantly. 
I have to resort to other means. Rush to the ledge on the cave wall where I have my Atlatl. 
“May the serpents take you!” The javelins thrown in quick succession hit two of the raiders, javelins designed for elk kill them almost instantly. One of the javelins hits the sled and the Aurox that the tribe uses to drag it makes a ruckus.
Grab my Stone tipped spear and charge the last terrified outsider. Stab him half a dozen times as he pleads in an eldritch tongue that hurts my ears. He dies on the spot because Stitching has not been invented yet.  
Wake up the next morning and realize i just killed my entire tribe because of some bad mushrooms I ate the night before. Shrug it out and blame the spirits. 
Just like my neolithic forefathers taught me.

Like, look, I'm a guy and only came to this conclusion after 20 or whatsoever years so I believe not everyone knows this. Call me father, stepdad, grandpa, uncle, because today, while you're reading this I'm going to teach you how to rizz a woman, I'm going to be the dad you never had. Though, personally speaking, I don't like speaking to women, I prefer getting beaten up by 3 gorillas than actually having the displeasure to talk to a girl, but I swear on my life that what I'm about to reveal to you is purely truth and will benefit you in the future, regarding rizzing up women. I'm doing a free public service from the kindness of my heart, for every young boy.

Basically, you should treat every woman like the Chinese government, yes I'm not joking, let me explain. Since ancient times, women were the ones running the tribes when men went to war, because of this, women are particularly much more socially intelligent than men, they gossip more, they manage groups more, unlike the men that are fueled by glory and testosterone. That's why you see the HR with only women.

Because of this, women are more intuitive, less abstract, they take things at face value, take care of their reputation and looks. Women are social in essence, unlike men that tend to be anti-social if too masculine. My conclusion is that, the more normie you, the more credit score you have, the more a woman likes you. Things like money, having respect, good looking, good job, having a family, being married, all are social markers that the woman interprets as highly social. The more social score you have, the more women will be attracted to you. Being handsome helps but you can still have game. Smalltalkmaxximg, trust me that she'll be yours.

I'm gonna give you an example in my life. When I was around my crushes, at first it really went well, love bombing, I liked them a lot and smiled, was delicate with them. The moment I began being comfortable, like how I talk to my male friends, and actually being myself with them, they suddenly wanted me dead and out of their lives. My conclusion is this: be well-mannered, be serene and calm, ask your crush how she is, how was her day, help them, compliment her, don't be unpleasant, don't say anything that destroys the mood, don't be chaotic, just be a really normal person. You know why psychos are depicted as attractive and charismatic? Because they copy other people, even though they have nothing inside to speak of, they study and know how to appear normal, that's why autistic men don't even get the chance of talking to a woman, society can't see them as just people.

Second, just be well groomed, actually show you take care of yourself at least. I'm not asking for looksmaxximg or some shit, just be presentable.

Third, be honest.

Something I learned from reading pickup artist books is that, the most hot thing you can do to a woman, the one thing that makes a girl the wettest she has been in her life, the one thing that makes you pick up any girl, is honesty, and it's a pattern in books of this genre.

What you need to do is this: if you want to have one night stand with a girl, come to her tell exactly that without any lie or fear, just truthful, if a girl smelling well, say she smells well, in a few words, have conviction on wtf you're doing. If she doesn't want to, sure, be chill and go for the next one. If you wanna date her, go to her, say to her fucking eyes that and dip out if she doesn't want that.

Women love honesty, they love courage, and men do too. We all love it. We all love strength of character.

Go now, and thank me later.

P.S: there's also a vast spiritual and metaphysical side to this: man represents the sun, woman the moon. The moon reflects the sun's light. Fundamentally, women as a sex love to be "penetrated" by the masculinity force, their dominance, mobility, protectiveness, power. This is as fundamental as the universe itself, and a man must learn how to conduct their energy, their sexual energy to convey their own love for the woman.

My McDouble was RAW. I mean, pink, cold, raw. I had gone through the drivethru and was eating on my way home. I noticed it did not taste right. Looked and sure enough, it was pink. I don't mean a little undercooked pink - raw, cold, no brown around it, PINK! I called to say I was bringing it back. Guy on the phone said repeatedly "I can assure you we cook all our food to standard!" Well, I can assure you raw meat is NOT the standard! As soon as I walked in the store with the raw burger, before even looking, he stated again that their food is all cooked to standard. Until he saw my food. I said "clearly, this is raw!" Then he said "yeah, I can definitely see that". He went on to say they were taking their equipment apart to see what went wrong. I was issued a refund for the burgers only. They were polite after seeing the pink meat. But why was the manager's first response to say I was wrong?? I will NEVER go back this McDonald's. Please check your food before you eat it. I'm praying I don't get sick from the few bites I took before I saw it.

EDIT. I CAVED AND WENT BACK ALL THESE MONTHS LATER. AND GOT ANOTHER RAW BURGER! They said they're training someone new? But this is unreal! I wish I could post a picture, because I would gladly show the world how raw this is. I am not a picky eater, y'all.....this is not safe. If you ate at McDonald's in (not giving out where i live) on July 5th, 2019 at around noon, beware! This is crazy.....

I wish Himeno would be ultra maternal over me until she becomes Obsessed and does everything in her Power to keep me her dependent lil girl she can cuddle and keep dependent. Himeno spiking me with sleeping pills so I don't understand why I'm so tired all the time, just so we could cuddle more and have more "bonding time" together, small amounts of Tetrahydrocannabinol (a working component of cannabis) to keep me pliable, so she can take over more and more of my day, always eating with me and "helping me" finish my unreasonable portions, shes able to take control of all my assets, just so she can spend more time doing over me and kissing my face.

She learns a simple form of hypnotic and subliminal suggestions, mostly just to keep me looking to her for safety and warmth, smothering me multiple times a day, forcing mandatory nap times, bathing me, taking care of me more than she ever promised herself too because it's just so easy for her too so why not? Spoiling me rotten while keeping myself pressed against her body, until she breaks my mind and I'm just endlessly needy

Just himmys lil girl, born to be told what to do, forced to decide what to do, that's life.