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AnasAbdin

Kiana Khansmith
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ē„ę„ / Permanent Vacation

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romaā
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Janaina Medeiros
Stranger Things
almost home

JVL
cherry valley forever
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Peter Solarz
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@andy-solo1
Unga bungga

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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hii! i really love your stories and i adore how you write the saja boys so i was thinking maybe if you can make one like reader is jinuās sister and whats the dynamics between all of them (it can be romantic dynamics for the 4 other boys too!)
YOU'RE JINU'S SISTER
hii! promise I'll be more active now!š¤
How to fix a ripped plushie (clear and easy to follow) by ęµŖęµŖå±±éäøäø«å¤“ęē¼åøå
hey itās ok if you lost your ai virginity back when you were uneducated. a lot of posts go like āreblog if you have never ever used generative ai and never ever will!!!ā but itās ok if you have used gen ai before and itās even ok if you used to think it was cool, back before you understood what it really was and how it worked, either because no one had taught you about it and you discovered it on your own or because the only education you had received about it was from the tech bros. youāre not a burger with a bite out of it for having used ai. ok
It is 100 percent okay to stop using it today and join the "boo AI" club.
This isn't a purity thing. This is a "everyone stand with us against destroying the environment and giving asthma to poor people" thing.
Did you know that when one community says no to an AI data center, they specifically search out communities with fewer resources? Communities that can't defend themselves? And the pollution 100 percent affects their health and wellbeing, in addition to burning through our already scarce drinking water.
You can stop using character.ai today. You can say "I listened to the facts and stopped." And another thing: don't you think it's a bit more impactful to have used it, stopped, and then you're in a position to say how little it helped? How doing things for yourself improved your life?
also posts in the spirit of "if you've used AI even ONCE your soul is tainted!!!!" can't be great to those with OCD
So true. People Gold Star Lesbianning ai makes me so tired.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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logging back on to say a very happy birthday to mr RITSU SHINJO HIMSELF JAPAN'S GREATEST ATTORNEY TO BE āāā
the audio is from "How the Grinch Stole Christmas Read by James Arnold Taylor (the voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi) and Corey Burton (the voices of Cad Bane and Ziro the Hutt)" by James Arnold Taylor on YouTube
Happy holidays and merry Christmas!
WHO DID THIS!
Sho lap pillow
That is all (///-///)
If you please
Sho lap pillow coming right up, I hope you like it!! Something short and sweet (ā ā§ā ā½ā ā¦ā )
ā§Ėāā¢āāāāąØą§āāāāā¢ā§āĖā¹
šµšš š±ššš š š«šššš
ā§Ėāā¢āāāāąØą§āāāāā¢ā§āĖā¹
"You better compensate me well for this," you huffed, wrapping up yet another order.
Sho let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, yeah. Nothing's free these days, huh?"
You were helping Sho out at his food truck. Lately, it seemed like everyone craved something warm and homemade more than usual. Business had been blooming.
"God forbid a girl wants to be rewarded for her hard work," you sighed dramatically before moving on to wash the dishes.
By the time you were done, it was already dark outside. Right. The days really were getting shorter. You yawned softly, the rush finally catching up with you.
kitty update?
He's doing good!
He's still drugged out of his mind, they gave him this 72 hour pain killer that makes him not blink and he's clearly on some kinda trip so he's not fully there mentally rn but he's okay!
He was playing a bit with me last night and my mom's gotten him to purr so he's getting back into being himself. Finally got him to eat for the first time post-surgery yesterday as well which was really good!
movies where someone hears an important message only once and retains all the detailsā¦.
girl if that were me, weād be fucked. I have to reread emails like 4 times.
if it were me having to repeat my dead fatherās instructions on destroying the death star:
I was in a college psych class, and the teacher was doing some kind of exercise about memory, patterns, and retention. He began with, āfor instance, if I asked you what number the first letter of your name is in the alphabet, you wouldnāt be able to tell me right awāā āTen,ā I said. āWhat?ā āJ. J is ten,ā I said again. He stared at me. āI happened to learn it while looking at the alphabet when I was five or six, and it just stayed in my brain,ā I told him. Then we did an exercise on retention. āIām going to tell you a story,ā he said, āand then Iām going to send you out of the room for five minutes, and when you come back, you have to repeat as much of the story back to me as possible.ā He told me a long and meandering story with no plot or structure, just a random series of events, place names, actions, etc. Then he sent me out of the room. I looked at the wall for a while. He called me back in five minutes later, stood me up in front of the class, and asked me to repeat ājust as much of the story as you remember.ā Apparently while Iād been gone heād been telling the class about how eyewitness accounts arenāt reliable because people donāt remember things well after a certain period of time. So I told his story back to himā not verbatim, but certain phrases were exactā and watched the consternation in his face as I accidentally blew up his (valid! and extensively studied!) lesson about how bad peopleās retention is. āItās like a song,ā I tried to explain to him, and the class. āOr a poem. Every part of the story has a little tag to remember it. I looked at the chalkboard while you were saying this part. My leg itched while you were saying that part. A chair squeaked during the next part. Then I just have to come back and go over all the sensations that I had while you wereā āSit down,ā he said. I sat. Turns out Iām Autisms Georg adn should not have been counted
ADHD version: A friend asked, on a field trip, why I knew the scientific name for Caltha palustris, āWell, we did that [one week long] field ID course [three years previously] and we saw it in one of the bogsā.
This, I was informed, is very much not a normal reason to remember the scientific name of a plant for the rest of your life.
It took me five whole years to learn when my partnerās birthday is.
I can remember specific details about games I played over two decades ago that I have not played since.
I once forgot it was my birthday. On my birthday. And when my sister (Who lived several hours away) jumped out of hiding and yelled happy birthday, I looked around to see who she was talking to.

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i went to a drag show and one of the acts was Doofenshmirtz and Perry the Platypus
i bring a sort of "canadian nationalism is heavily based in being "better" than america which leads us to ignore our own equally problematic history and specifically the atrocities committed against indigenous people by our own government, so we tend to see canada as a generally good country that just made a few mistakes rather than a nation that systemically attempted to erase numerous cultures and histories and is still in some way perpetuating harm against those people by refusing to better their material conditions in a way that would create substantial change" vibe to the conversation that people with a strong sense of canadian nationalism don't really like
Important to note that canada is still very much attempting to erase indigenous languages and cultures. Most native kids still don't grow up speaking their language, and the majority of foster kids and sex trafficking victims in canada are Indigenous. We are still being stolen and erased.
None of this is past tense.
full offense but none of you would have ever survived fanfiction.net in 2009
remember when writers had to be all like: āomg omg lemon starts HEREā yāall are lucky that ao3 has tagsĀ and filtersĀ you can set
Sometimes shit was marked ālemonā and itād just be them making out, and sometimes theyād just start pissing on each other
No rules, no laws, you took your life into your hands opening fics
A/N: this contains SLASH, that means TWO MEN, if that makes you uncomfy, DONāT READ!
A/N: please donāt sue me, o anime overlords, Iām not making any money off of this! Iām just a broke student! I donāt have any money!
A/N: I totally wrote this while high off 10 Red Bulls wheeeeeee!!!!!
A/N: COMMENT if you want me to continue the next chappy!!!
No, no, no
remember when thereād be interactions with the author and the characters?
InuYasha: I donāt get why I have to be here for this
A/N: Because it was in your contract!!1!1 *revs chainsaw*
god those were lawless times.Ā
Expectation vs reality (-Ļ-ć)
I feel physically ill seeing this, actual ghouls, I have no words š

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The steam clings to me. Water's off but I'm still dripping. Can't tell if my skin's red from heat or scrubbing orāoh.
He's still here.
Lulu.
Didn't leave. Didn't wander off to monologue at someone else. Just standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed. Waiting. Like I'm a package he ordered and he's deciding whether to keep the receipt.
Towel's loose. Slipping. I'm not gonna fix it.
His eyes track the drop. A flash of magenta. Of course.
Still sharp, but slower now. He's not yelling. Not smirking. Just watching again. Like he was in the doorway. Like he is now.
I step out. Floor's cold. Doesn't matter.
His hand's suddenly on my wrist. Don't remember moving. Don't remember breathing.
Towel falls. Hits the floor with a sound that feels too loud for how soft it is.
And then I'māOn him. Pulled. Guided. Like he knew exactly where l'd land and made space for it. For me.
His clothes are soft. Expensive. I'm still wet from the shower. He doesn't flinch. Doesn't complain about the mess. His hands don't shake.
I thinkā
I think I know now why he wanted me to shower.
It wasn't about the smell. Not really. It was about this. This closeness. This contact. This goddamn silence between us thick enough to choke on.
And maybe ā
Maybe he wanted me clean because he couldn't stand the thought of touching me when I wasn't.
Maybe this is the only way he'll let himself. And maybe I'm okay with that.
At some point, he starts losing clothes too. Not dramatically. Not all at once. JustāLayers slipping. Silk and structure giving way. Cufflinks set aside, not tossed. Buttons undone with his irritatingly deliberate fingers.
He's clean. Of course he is. He's always clean. Like being touched by the world would somehow ruin him. Like sweat and sin and mess only happen around him, not to him.
But l've seen it. I've tasted it.
I want to bite him. God, I want to bite him.
Leave something jagged behind. A mark. A claim.
Something real.
But I don't. Not anywhere visible. I know better by now. I know where he allows them. Which bits of his perfect skin he'll let me bruise.
The underside of his jaw, where the shadow catches. The dip just below his ribs. The curve of his hipboneāleft side only. He hates symmetry when it comes to pain.
No neck. No collarbone. No wrists. Nothing that could interfere with sleeves or silk or presentation. He doesn't have to say it anymore. I just know.
And maybe that's what ruins me most. That l've memorized the map of his limits. That I listen to them.
That he knows I will.
Mostly.
I move without thinking. Mouth trailing somewhere it shouldn't. Somewhere off the list.
Somewhere he's stopped me before.
His neck. Just under the ear, where the skin's soft and warm and smells like soap and bergamot and whatever lotion he swears is "formulated for something something pretentious." I know this spot. I know it's off-limits.
I do it anyway. Maybe to test him. Maybe to prove he's not really here. Maybe just because I'm too far gone to care. And heā
He doesn't stop me. Doesn't flinch. Doesn't scold.
Doesn't pull my hair or shove my shoulder or hiss through his teeth like l've committed a war crime on his porcelain skin.
He breathes. Shaky. Barely-there. But he lets it happen.
Lets me happen.
So l keep going. A little slower. A little deeper.
Teeth just barely grazing the skin.
Still nothing. No "Hoshibami, you feral disaster."
No "BTH."
No hand shoving me back into place. Just his own hands gripping the back of my neck like he's anchoring himself. Like I might slip away if he doesn't.
And that's when I know. He's breaking his own rules. Letting me mark what's usually off the map.
Letting me rewrite it.
Even if it's just for tonight. Even if he never admits it happened.
I'll remember. Because he let me leave something that'll be hard to cover. And for once, he gets to flinch at the mirror.
ā
And then I'm back in the shower.
Water running. Head against the tile. Skin raw.
Steam curling around my ankles like it's trying to drag me under.
Maybe it happened. Maybe it didn't. Maybe it's yet to come. Hard to tell. It all blurs together.
The heat. The mouth. The magenta. The way his breath hitched when I crossed the line and he didn't shove me back. The sound he madeāfuck, did he make a sound?
Was it real? Was he even there?
My shoulder aches where his hand might've been.
My lips taste like skin that was too clean to be mine. My throat feels like I swallowed silence and it hasn't finished choking me yet.
Maybe it was a dream. Maybe I'm still in it. Maybe I'll walk out of this shower and he'll be standing there, arms crossed, towel folded, disgust sharp as ever.
Or maybe he won't be there at all.
And I'll wonder again if I imagined the whole thing just to feel something soft in the middle of all this sharp.
Doesn't matter. I think about his eyes.
Still magenta. Still watching. Still burned into me like heat that won't rinse off.
...
Do you ever write something ordinary, like I ate breakfast or the weather was tolerable today? Or is it always thisāhalf dream, half confession, all fever? Because reading thisāI don't know whether to throw the notebook into the fire or put it in a vault.
You shouldn't write about me like this. You shouldn't see me like this. I didn't think you did. I didn't stay because I wanted to watch. I stayed because you lookedāNo. That's not right.
You were swaying on your feet. Skin pale. Eyes glassy. You looked like if I left, you'd fall face-first into the tile and bleed out over the grout. Someone had to make sure you didn't die on the floor, and I was already there. That's all.
ExceptāWhen you stepped out, you didn't look at me like a man being scolded. You looked at me like a man being remembered. And I didn't move. Couldn't.
There are moments, Taiga, when I forget the art of self-preservation. When all the calculations fall away and what's left is just heat and breath and the ache of proximity.
But you're right about one thing: I didn't stop you. Maybe because I wanted to see how far you'd go... or maybe because, for once, I didn't want to stop myself.
My sister and I worked out the perfect cast for Muppet Dracula
#the gonzo and rizzo dynamic this implies is rizzo being like āgonzo i think we should get out of hereā at every turn#while gonzo is like ārizzo donāt be ridiculousā#gonzo: haha wow this castle is so cool and count dracula is such a nice guy!!#rizzo (trembling like a nervous Chihuahua) oh god oh god oh god#gonzo: check it out this guyās got no reflection! crazy!!#rizzo: gonzo. we are gonna DIE here.#dracula *crawling down the castle like a lizard*#rizzo: GONZO ARE YOU SEEING THIS- wait#gonzo: *crawling down the wall like a lizard too* wahoo!!! (penny-anna)