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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
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Game of Thrones Daily
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if i look back, i am lost

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@protistthehero

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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This is legit the best thing Iâve read all day.
this image is so raw and real. ive been thinking about it for weeks
You'll find your fate on the path you take to avoid it.
they used to make smackable technology. you used to be able to hit your tv when it didn't work good.
when I was a kid I had an old tv in my room that would always turn to unwatchable static in the middle of shows but one night my sister and I were watching Naruto & every time Kakashi was on-screen the static cleared so we were like âhahaha the tv looooves Kakashi.â
I had a Kakashi bookmark so we held it up against the screen as a joke but the static actually cleared up. Mystified, we tried different bookmarks and objects with the same plastic material but nothing else worked, only the Kakashi bookmark.
We ended up taping it to the corner of the screen and it stayed there for 11 years until we moved out. When I was older people would be like âcan you move the bookmark off the screenâ bc it did sort of block a bit of the view but I would demonstrate the static issue and everyone was always just like âhuh. what the hell?? wellâŚalright.â
No explanation, but thanks Kakashi.
I had a similar tv! It was a tv with a built in dvd and vcr because it was in college and Iâm apparently old now. But! The dvd player never wanted to play- unless it was Chicago (2002). First, we would put that dvd in, let it start, and then swap it for the movie we really wanted to watch. It got to the point where we would put in the dvd we wanted and sing âhe had it coming!!!â At the screen at volume. Fucking worked *every time*
Bizarre.
I miss when technology had real personality, instead of fake ones designed to generate lies and nonsense and spy on you.

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ok guys but imagine how hard it's gonna hit if something good ever happens again
The Tourist, by Cora Lee Healy
âRama,â by Morris Scott Dollens, 1980

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Every computer needs a cleaning keyboard mode where the keys are inactive while you wipe them down
Turn off the computer
unplug the keyboard
Wallow in filth
Dream about me
atlanta gothic
You get on MARTA at Five Points. The doors close. The train does not leave.
They call it the Murder Kroger, but the name always seemed absurd to you. You sent your son to pick up some meat from the deli half an hour ago. Where is he? The deli is empty. The slicers are impossibly sharp. The lights buzz above you. Outside, you think, an animal screams in pain. You decide to buy a steak.
There are 71 streets named Peachtree in Atlanta. None of them are safe.
The streets of Atlantic Station are hollow. At every step, you feel the ground crack like an eggshell beneath your feet. The music gets louder. A miniature train passes by.
Itâs Dragoncon weekend! Lock your doors, turn off the lights, and find a room without windows. Pray that this year weâll be free.
They told you West Peachtree was a one way. They never told you how long it was. Your shoes are soaked through. Your eyes burn. Your shoulders ache. A Camaro pulls in front of you without signaling.
You have taken your family to Stone Mountain. You can smell something burning. The gondolas go up. The stone-carved confederates stare you down. The gondolas go up. A ring of anonymous figures stands at the summit. The gondolas go up. They are always empty. Maybe you ought to try the zoo, the wind whispers in your ear.
The zoo is overrun with pandas. The pathways are covered in shit an inch deep. Nobody seems to care.
Creative Loafing is free, so you pick one out of a rusted newspaper machine. It comes apart in your hands. You feel inexorably drawn to Eddieâs Attic.
You turn onto Powers Ferry. You wait. The river is too wide to ford this time of year.
Theyâre shooting a movie here. At least, thatâs what you heard. On every corner, the telephone poles are covered with yellow signs. At a cafe across the road, an actor whose name you cannot recall spots you. He licks his lips. You decide youâll ask him for an autograph. His fur shines in the sun.
Itâs pointless to go to the World of Coke, they say. Weâre already living in it. A polar bear looks your way, a steely glare that bores into your soul, and you quickly down half the glass. You know what happens to dissenters.
You turn on the radio. There is only one station. It only plays country.
You wake up. Itâs Sunday morning. You are hungry. The Chick-fil-A is closed. Your stomach rumbles. You go to church. You drive to another Chick-fil-A. The Chick-fil-A is closed. You feel light-headed. You go to bed. You wake up. Itâs Sunday morning.
A friend from out of town has come to visit. Seriously, they laugh, how do the highways even work? Your eyes water. You force yourself to smile. Your car sits, rusted out, on the downtown connector.
âDonât worry, guys. Alligators are blind.â
-Barbarian Dwarf (Rolling Nat 1 nature check on a Wyvern.)
I 100% think that if you went inside, you would walk into a normal sized one. It would be seemingly normal, with everyday employees and shoppers. And youâd wander around and almost forget the weird beginning of this adventure, buy a DVD, and then step back out into this field.

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can we take a moment to just think about how incredibly scary magical healing is in-context?
You get your insides ripped open but your friend waves his hands and your flesh just pulls back together, agony and evisceration pulling back to a âkinda hurtsâ level of pain and youâre physically whole, with the 100% expectation that youâll get back up and keep fighting whatever it was that struck you down the first time.
You break your arm after falling somewhere and after youâre healed instead of looking for âanother way aroundâ everybody just looks at you and goes âokay try againâ.
Youâve been fighting for hours, youâre hungry, thirsty, bleeding, crying from exhaustion, and a hand-wave happens and only two of those things go away. youâre still hungry, youâre still weak from thirst, but the handwave means you have âno excuseâ to stop.
You act out aggressively maybe punch a wall or gnash your teeth or hit your head on something and itâs hand-waved because itâs âsuch a small injury you probably canât even feel it anymoreâ but the point was that you felt it at all?
Your pain literally means nothing because as long as youâre not bleeding youâre not injured, right? Here drink this potion and who cares about the emotional exhaustion of that butchered village, why are you so reserved in camp donât you think itâs fun retelling that time you fell through a burning building and with a hand-wave you got back up again and ran out with those two kids and their dog?Â
Older warriors who get a shiver around magic-users not because of the whole âfireballâ thing but the âI donât know what a normal pain tolerance is anymoreâ effect of too much healing. Permanent paralysis and loss of sensation in limbs is pretty much a given in the later years of any fighterâs life. Did I have a stroke or did the mage just heal too hard and now this side of my face doesnât work? No iâm not dead from the dragonâs claws but I canât even bend my torso anymore because of how the scar tissue grew out of me like a vine.
Magical healing is great and keeps casualties down.
But man.
That stuff is scary.
shit just got creepy
Or maybe magical healing doesnât leave scars or damage. It is magical, after all.
So after years of fighting, your skin is still perfect. Unmarred. In fact, youâre actually in better shape than regular people who donât get magical healing when they fall out of trees or walk into doors or cut themselves while cooking dinner. Youâre in such good shape that itâs unnatural.
And the really good healing magic takes away more than just the obvious injuries. You first start noticing it after about ten years when you go home and haha, you look the same age as your younger sibling, thatâs funny.
Not so funny ten years later when they look older. Or forty years later, when you bury them still looking like you did at twenty. When do you retire from this gig anyway? How much damage is too much damage?
How many times do you glimpse the afterlife, or worse, how many times donât you? What do you live through, get used to, show no outward sign of except a perfectly healthy body, too perfect for any person living a real life.
How many times are you sitting in a tavern with your friends and you hear the whispers, because the people around you know. How can they not know? Your weapons shine with enchantments and your armour is better than the best money can buy and there is not a damn scar on you. You hardly seem human to them.
How long before you hardly seem human to yourself?
And you find yourself struggling to remember the places where the scars should have been, phantom pains that wake you screaming, touching all the old injuries and finding nothing there. Itâs all in your head. Was it ever anywhere else?
How long before youâre fighting a lich or a vampire or some other undead monster and you wonderâŚ
âŚwhat makes me so different?
Here we go someone who GETS IT.
@predatsu
@ostrichmonkey
man: has anyone ever told you youâre beautiful? me: oh no sir, today is my first day out of doors and papĂ forbade mirrors in the house lest we fall victim to vanity
Iâve been laughing at this on and off for two straight days