#ghostpillow

        the  tinkle  of  the  bell  comes  bounding  into  the  garage  from  the  shop  proper,  and,  with  a  noise  of  mild  annoyance,  kenny  gives  the  ground  a  harsh  KICK  to  propel  his  body  out  from  under  the  car  he  has  spent  all  morning  working  on.  he  hoists  himself  up  and  off  the  creeper,  tossing  his  tools  onto  the  steel  tray  and  ignoring  the  clang  that  they  make.  as  he’s  stepping  into  the  utterly  BLISSFUL  air-conditioned  paradise  of  the  shop,  a  hand  is  rubbing  FURIOUSLY  at  the  grease  he  knows  is  covering  his  cheeks.  

        mostly  he  has  only  succeeded  in  smearing  it  around.  oh  well.

I've poked around a fair number of these platforms. You've probably seen the names floating around, candy.ai, ourdream.ai, the usual suspects. They each do their thing fine. But honestly, what kept pulling me back to SweetDream is that I never had to leave it to get the full experience. Chat, voice messages, photos, video, even live cam sessions with select characters, it's all under one roof.

And the roof part actually matters more than I expected. When your AI girlfriend can text you, leave a voice note, send a photo, hop on a video call, and remember every bit of it, the illusion stops being an illusion. It just feels like a relationship that happens to live on your phone. No copy-pasting context between five tools that don't talk to each other.

(  ooc . ) ༼ இ   ͜ʖ இ ༽ omg

dont

brumatifl replied to your post:

MICKEY NO

hydrangeaguard replied to your post:

HEY CAN YOU NOT???

astrumtristis replied to your post:

HOW DARE YOU ????

     ❝ ... Excuse me, is this what you’re looking for ? I bought too many, so ... ❞

A minor fib ( it was actually the last and only one ) but his father’s words itched at the back of his head - be nice to girls! - at the sight of the lone figure hovering in the near decimated candy aisle he'd just raided.

Although, now that he was up close, he disregarded his assumption━ that was something he’d have to be told, but it was too late to take it back now anyway.

     ❝ ... you can have it, if you’d like, ❞ he offered, holding the snack cake out between them.

five reasons — @ghostpillow​ — accepting.

“F---fiv---” she can’t even properly finish her first word that she’s already choking on her own voice, unable to keep a decent composure despite the innocence of the question. Totally out of nowhere she has to list five reasons why she likes Blair---and just as suddenly, completely unexpected to her, both anxiety and fluster pounce on her back with vicious and voracious intents. It’s weird because she likes thinking about Blair; she likes being with him, she enjoys his presence, and so, so much more. Still at the same time this task includes doing something she’s terrible at, and always unwilling to walk through: that is, talking about her feelings. It’s not because of him---it’s her. She’s the problem, here. Incompetent and inept at anything, discerning and analyzing her emotions included. “Ah... eh...”     Inhale, exhale. Min-Seo tries to calm down, despite the fact that lessening her anxiety has always been a titanic task. Her hand stiffly and shakily wraps itself around her neck, index and middle fingers conveniently placed: shit. Hearing her own heartbeat run this fast isn’t at all useful. Contrarily, it makes her guts sink even deeper. Why is she overreacting like this?     She would like to run away, actually. That’s what her prey-like instinct tells her to do. But she can’t just do that, she can’t grab her things and go for it---it’s a question. A simple, fair question. How harmful can it be? How difficult is it, to selectively spill here and there what she thinks and feels? Min-Seo squeezes her eyes closed, fingers around the neck tightening their grip as well, to quickly release both holds right after. A gulp.

“Well, he’s... he’s---” her throat closes up again, a wheezing sound taking place of words before dissolving, once again, into silence. Min-Seo perseveres, however---let it be absolute crap, but she will say something. Anything. A cough, “Blair is... I-I don’t think...” cough, “There is anything that I don’t, um. Like. H-how---how can I explain myself...” (think about him, think about him, think about him.) Min-Seo frowns. (Just say the first things that come to you when you think about him.)     “Nice... he’s... so, so incredibly nice,” finally, she mutters something coherent and complex, “I really mean it when I say I don’t know, I don’t know what I can say---it’s just... he’s good. Altogether. I can’t think of s-something that I don’t like.” handsome, charming, energetic, determined, strong-willed, kind---all things considers ideal. In general, she’s baffled he sticks around her out of his own volition: what can she, of all people, give to him? How can she repay him? How can she pay off this debt that feels more and more crushing with each time he smiles at her? Teeth bite down on her lower lip in uncertainty, fingers fidgeting with each other in nervousness. It’s too late to turn back now---she started talking, she ought to finish. No matter how much her chest and stomach hurt.     (The more she thinks about him, though, the more she tries to cradle those warm moments, those little things. They feel safe. They feel right.)     “I’m... I’m sorry.” it had to happen, at some point. Compulsory apologizing. “I just feel that... he’s giving me so much. That I can’t give back. I’m always moping around, and, and... I like how gentle he is... it’s odd. I’ve never---you know, I’m not... used to it.” a sigh follows as she forcefully represses awful memories, ones still so recent and fresh that even so barely mentioning them feels like pouring salt on a wound, “I can’t describe it. Just... what’s there not to like? Have you met him...?” a rare sight follows as she continues---Min-Seo actually smiles, endeared by her current thoughts,     “He learned some Korean... and I don’t really know why,” surely not because of her: it wouldn’t make sense. There ought to be some other reason, a way more worthy motivation. With that her lips are pulled down once again, almost grimacing, “But he’s so---so. So simply nice. I...” without thinking, her hands reach her face to conceal it; her shoulders stiffen, tighten, and there is such a mess in her head, in her chest, that she doesn’t know what to do. What a fucking wreck, is the first clear thought that slashes through her confused mind.

< meme > || klshks