Stepping from the bus and back onto the dimly lit streets of Seattle, he shuffled quickly down the sidewalk, scanning the people on the street around him. When stepping off the bus, he saw and could still hear them behind him, probably about four people but he could smell how sleep-deprived these workers were just trying to make it home, by the gaits of their walk sounding weary, to the yawning and groans muffled behind their aching hands, eyes droopy but he knows they harbor a similar alertness to him for danger. Seattle past midnight could be quite the jungle, they knew well of people diced into suitcases being found on the rocky coast just below downtown, many may even know Washington has an abnormal amount of serial killings spurred from it. The same feelings of fear they have towards being murdered or grabbed from behind and dragged into a vehicle, just to end up in Tampa Bay being bent in two every day by men with enough money to pay their jailor, he felt the feeling differently. An itch rested under his skin the immortal couldn't satisfy, the same fear the mortals had for dying was the one he was paranoidly starting to have about the love of his life.

The emotions would hit like a stab, one, two, then three, what if she would never come back to me? What if something was able to take her permanently away from me? Then the one that sometimes colors him linen white, what if that's her? One that dunks him in ice water, causes him to spill drinks, turn his head, and trip over his own shoes, and then it's just another person on the streets. She was immortal in her own way as well, he always would end up finding her, but reincarnation was a rather fickle boat with turbulent waters, she never looked the same, roughly seventy percent of the time she forgots all the lives they've lived together, sometimes those memories come back, in other lives he would stare lovingly into her eyes, knowing of so much they've done together, "introducing" her yet again to things that they'd always have, her never knowing of the endless embers and coals she always leaves him to burn. It's just he knew he was growing frantic with his efforts to find her, he was nonstop traveling waiting for the Fates, he very much needed her back in his embrace. Even if after finding her that embrace may take many more years. It kept him on edge, as he always could recognize her once he saw her, it's just over these years with these daunting waits that bore holes into his heart, the constant on the edge of his seat nature caused him to be ever too hopeful with every individual he saw. Once he looked at them they were any other, but before he looks at them and there's the slightest chance they are her, his brain goes crazy with feeble feelings that made him quiver, and he didn't view himself as an anxious or weak man until it's been after about twenty-five years without her, then he'd feel the instability every day. It drove him insane, all he wanted and all he felt he needed was her, his girl, and she was somewhere walking some street, living in some place, and starting off a new life.

He wonders what trouble she could have gotten herself into this time, lovingly he thought of her as his troublemaker, in most lives she's quite the riot, causing and getting in the particular and odd circumstances of it and causing her own flames in the fire. These days, by his assertions, the world seemed to be burning quite hot, so the trouble she'd be in this time may be like back in WW2, that'd be hell, so hopefully not. At least once she let's him clean the gutters and closets, he will. That would take possibly building back trust and time, alongside intimately understanding everything of the mortals had done to her this life, he'd be dealing with the loose ends who dared to harm hairs on her head. Damned be the ones to harm a metaphoric hair on her soul most certainly, he'd make them feel the flames of hell before the inferno begins. A preview many souls have had via his vices, but he couldn't regret a single one of them, with many he wished he could have made them suffer more. Maybe she got an easier life this time, where there are no people who did wrongs never facing accountability, sometimes until they die naturally is too long.

None of the people on the street struck him as her, admittedly this changed from life to the next but she had a way to herself, always a little old-fashioned and brightly colored, had a specific masculine swagger to her, a type of confidence many men lack especially these days. With her clothing preference, she commonly stood out like a sore thumb, looking like a foreigner in the countries she was well born in. She talked a certain way but it was rare he'd hear her before he saw her these days, time had changed certain things but when she was excited or laughed her voice carried like he remembered it always did. Through many lives and rather vile people, she had gotten quieter gradually, a part of her seems to always be aware she didn't belong to these people like they thought she did and how many treat "their" children not conforming to societal rules or not aligning to expectations things can quickly get messy. When parents or a government owns the children and acts like it, a child is quickly a work horse or something that easily has no freedom or expression or rights to individuality, just a future worker. From his own experience as a father, every kid seems to be quite the little individual in their niche way quick into their lives, and to squander that, especially when unknowing a parent is raising something much older than themselves just not conscious of it trying to force ways of life on them, it's cruel and grueling to be dragged through time and time again. He very much sympathized for his love, going through so many hands trying to mold her had broken down parts of her from stark edges to something more smooth, and his baby was always hot and sharp, not a smooth-in-the-lines lady.

A lonely feeling dipped into his chest again, like dipping his toes into an ice lake, he sighed and stared up and down the street, he saw no unusual figures for Seattle. Mainly tweakers, some homeless, some both, many shady types but they'd likely be the ones off to work night shifts, still little droves of people trying back to whichever place from work, some partiers of course, but nothing of which he cared for. He missed his love, it's been so long since he felt her pressed against him, felt her smile against his lips, but with each moment it seemed her eyes could be around each corner. He just wanted her, no he needed her, and unlike everything else that dies, she always comes back, and he desperately needed her there. The need was solely mental, he's gone without his love for so long, it was hard to just tell himself to wait a few years when he's written so many letters that he could fill a room since the last he'd seen her, sometimes it feels like he can't breathe before kissing every one of her knuckles and then her face, but she's not there. It was empty, and he could never let anyone else make him feel the same way he did for her, even if it was the empty touch without feel, it would be too much for him. No one touches him, he has no friends, the most interaction he gets is on the bus, plane, or airport, and the most touch when a clerk brushes his hands at a store. He had nothing without her light, his body a mere corpse without her to give him some life.

Despite the thoughts like a monologue, he knew he was thinking himself into a bad headspace, but the world seemed so dark again, he needed her light and he needed to be the sword and shield in her hands. The franticness of his need wouldn't stop until he finally found her, and if by the sheer impossibility of the world, by they also exist, she ceases to be, he'll find a way to cope with the forever that'd be left in his miserable existence. Whether being a hermit in Scandinavia, maybe finding a way by any measure to leave this rock he shared with his love, or, if all else fails, destroy the world as it's known until it's unrecognizable to his grief, until he couldn't get reminded of her by anything left.

Guys guys the fucking date is a social structure of human societies like who tf even had the right to say humans were only civilized to be worth counting our years 2024 years ago? Like we had boats, fucking pyramids, effective farming strategies, hell we even figured out how to build aqueducts before that date. We had it figured it, we just weren't using the modern sciences/commodities and destroying the world with them. Like humans have been around at least 200000 years, why, besides a Bible, did we start tracking our dates 2024 years ago? We even had other calenders existant that ran on different years much older than the one we're using, just kinda inaccurate

If Jesus doesn't exist why do we use his birth to track the years, huh? Let's unify under Christianity guys [sarcastic/joke], wait to see how long after God brings our doomsday

In reality it's pitiful how quickly humans have depleted our planets resources, overpopulated and governments are fighting for us to stay overpopulated, yet they haven't figured out how to escape this rock when they blow it all to shit or the climate takes it out on us more extremely every year.

If the Bible read as true, then Jesus died so humans could achieve the ultimate sin of technology and destroy themselves by gratifying their own sin

Ehhe

Endometriosis is horrifying, why is it not viewed upon a similar level like cancer?

Whiskeys my comfort drink

After downing my fifteen shot of whiskey, I threw the glass at the wall

I looked the doctor in the eyes and tried to pretend I was in a hospital and not a shabby allyway

I slipped him the 500, he put it in his pocket and then pulled out a plastic baggie with (assumedly) clean gloves.

Swigging more liqour directly from the bottle, I settled on the plastic sheet layed on bed made from crates and blankets, I stare up at the doctor with half-hearted terror, I paid for this after all

Fuck me up doc, were the last last words before he hands me a stick and a sock, sock in my mouth stick between my teeth. To help the screaming he said

Now I dismenbarked on my backstreet bottom surgery because I can't afford 30000 dollars at the least for a functional dick

Update: I fucking died lmao, my body was wrapped in the plastic sheet and is in the garbage can behind you're local mall

Cave exploration was something you have seen and heard about from various places since you were young. In the experience of being in a cave for the first time, you took vigor in checking every nook and cranny, taking care not to stray to far off the path. You have just come into an inlit stumbling across a crack in the rock walls. Curiously, you shined your flash light in the direction of the hole to find it was enough to look through but not pass humanly, there was various glistening trails of a silvery substance leading up the wall with irregular holes.

It could be slug slime, you dully thought seeing how it reflected in the light. Stepping closer you shine the light into the next pocket of cave, seeing nothing you hadn't seen before in other sections. Approaching further, you hover your head right outside the hole, remembering various scenes in media where people would have their heads cut off. Brushing it off, you firmly look through the hole and look to the view to the right that was blocked.

Uh, a little weird. In stark to the grays and slight varied hues of rock was a pink rock that looked to be on some sort of base. Around it were at least, if not more, a hundred slugs or varying sizes, many disgustingly massive. Looking between variously colored slugs, some even yellow as if banana slugs, you trail your eyes back to the pink rock and focus on a black thing coming from it. At the end looked like an electrical prong for an outlet.

It was a salt lamp? A pink salt lamp? With a mass of slugs gathered around it in small lines that could oddly remind you of church pews. Some of them also seemed to be very slowly moving, which isn't very strange for slugs, but they were turning around towards the crack in the wall. Observing for an amount of time that had you ready to find something else to do, they were definitely at least trying to move towards you.

You'd been speculating maybe they're attracted to the light. On top of that, it felt like you had all the time in the world while observing to think about how watching slugs was similar to watching paint dry. Turning around to find something else to do, you shined your flashlight across a slug just at the opening of the inlit, slowly sliding towards you. It was a minute seeming detail but odd with the congregation of slugs inside the side-cave. Stepping over it without much hassle, you left.

yoU sAiD ThE S WoRd kYS

[is native] and I'll say it again

Words of encouragement are nice to hear altho! /j

[Huffing waving arms] bark

Ur gay

Yes, but no u at the same time

What if I say we're all twinks here huh? You're a twink, Pen&I are both twinks, so boom still a no u statement

Ur gay

Yes, but no u at the same time

Ur gay

Yes, but no u at the same time

Who sent the sex bots after me and how to I get them to stop

(I'm pretty sure you can manually get people to unfollow, will be finding that out shortly)

Edit: blocked them all lmao

Petition to protect Net Neutrality, which is your freedom of speech on the internet. Directly this has actively censored queer people and has on the Internet since 2018, ban visual displays of sexual and showing your sexuality. On top of that, even if you are a person who does not like prostitution, this also makes prostitution and conversation around prostitution censored. Which is directly dangerous for the prostitutes and makes it where they and people advocating for them can't properly fight for their rights (you can't if you can't even talk about the injustices you face). Sex workers deserve rights, spaces to talk, and opportunity.

Sex work will never be gone, it is a valid means of income and supporting yourself, the very least we can make it safer for them to work. As it is a job, and even dare call a self-employed business if someone is going through themselves (or working with people close to them) and not a pimp. (Pimps/Traditional Pimps can be really dangerous and we don't support them at all. Pimps do/can protect their workers in the dangerous cities, but a lot of pimps aren't pimps to protect prostitutes and a lot of prostitutes get hurt or in worse situations because of them.)

https://chng.it/KZTgDswFLQ

hey. the celebrities and corporations are going to try tumblr. you may want to drive them off the site, or find them amusing, ie “well THIS one can stay.” they may try to engage with the culture. they may do their research. DO NOT ENGAGE. do not bother. don’t fucking acknowledge them. don’t mess with their heads. don’t reply to them as a bit. let them think this site is a lost cause. let them fizzle out and die

Monkey used as an insult isn't effective, I know this message won't reach the audience I want it too, they are all on Facebook (or dead), but Dear people born from the 1940s to 1950 who use monkey degradingly/derogatorily, I hope you have a bad day, that your small dogs piss on all your white carpet, a few glasses get knocked over in the kitchen, yknow

tHE POISON FOR KUZZZZCOOOOO