I must sleep. Sleep is the mind-healer. Sleep is the big-life that brings total ability to fucking do anything. I will face my bed. I will permit the blankie to pass over me and snores to pass through me. And when sleep has gone past I will turn the outer eye to greet the new morning. When the sleep has gone there will be everything. Energy and will to live will remain.
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What is it about laying on the floor when you're overwhelmed that makes everything feel so much better?
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I want to be corrupted into a total sex obsessed freak sooooo bad. I want to be forced to get horny from literally everything. Stick household objects in me. Make me hump shoes and bags and clothes. Make me finger myself anytime I talk on the phone. Make me rub my pussy juices on all of my things. Make me watch porn at work. Make me always keep an earbud in so I can listen to girls getting fucked streamed 24/7. Keep a dildo in me anytime I use my computer. Make me sexualize every nonsexual thing in my life. I want to be completely perverted.
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i firmly hold that it's my duty as a reader to believe it when an author tells me at the beginning of the series that the dragons are gone forever and never coming back. but god it's a struggle sometimes.
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"Hey there superstar! You fell off the jungle gym and bonked your head!"
"Come here, let's get you to the nurse."
"Don't run now!"
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I can't believe I decided to read orv on a whim because I just wanted a good manhwa with no romance subplot and here I am knees deep into the novel questioning my whole life because whatever these mfs have got going on is much more nastier and visceral than any romance.
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the way that one line from the new epilogue in an astarion romance is going to HAUNT me
just. what a profoundly intense thing to confess to someone.
like, just these six months of newfound happiness with you exerts a force on his heart equal and in direct opposition to two centuries of endless torment, the gnawing hunger and exploitation. this flashbulb-bright fraction of his long life holds the same gravity to him as years upon years of darkness and suffering.
in all likelihood, he hasn’t even known his lover for as long as his worst memory lasted, that year sealed away to go mad from starvation and sensory deprivation, yet he still tells them this brief time has been so fundamentally and powerfully important that the weight of even that unimaginable hell is vanishingly small compared to this present he has now and the future ahead of them both.
how am i supposed to act normal about this.
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By the way, I would literally bet money that we're going to successfully keep global warming below 2 degrees celsius.
Would I bet my whole savings on it? No, not yet. But the way the data is trending, in two or three years, I very well might.
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