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Imagine being a patient of Hannibal’s but you just received actual therapy and then took his advice and you’re thriving, but then it comes out that almost all his patients killed at least one person I’d start wondering what was so wrong with me that he didn’t try to harness the dark urges within me, why wasn’t I worth shaping into a furry killer or some unsettling little freak with psychosexual tendencies? I’d need extensive therapy after.
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being the local slut is so funny 2 me every time someone tries to somehow criticize me. someone recently said to me in an obvious attempt to make me feel shame “it’s like you just think sex is some random activity to do” and i was like yeah. i’m autistic and asexual and i love fun. you are correct.
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I could never own a parrot. They are splendid and delightful joyful creatures but I could not match their fucking whimsy. If I woke up at 4:45 am on a tuesday to the sound of some gleeful feather-cloaked varmint doing aerial somersaults all over the house while singing the world's most high-pitched whistle nightcore one-man a capella cover of Funkytown, I'd eat it.
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just saw a furry go "ugh pup masks are the worst thing to happen to the furry community" and it's like what are you talking about those are your cousins, at the end of the day you're both pretending to be gay dog men, i think it's just an aesthetic choice at that point
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Tag yourself as this list of “bad art” features, according to a twitter fascist
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baby dragons whose scales are much more shiny and iridescent in order to hide in their parents' hoards
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coming out of my cage and i been doing just bad. going back in my cage because i like my cage
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i wanna be fucked in an alley so baddd, completely drunk and helpless as i’m pounded in the dark
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Not me reading porn at my grandmas funeral.
There is no one gay here what else am I supposed to do
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My boss makes a dollar I make a dime so I sext on company time
sexting on the clock !!!
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Sorry I moaned when you unbuckled your belt, It will happen again.
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I bet octopuses think bones are horrific. I bet all their cosmic horror stories involve rigid-limbs and hinged joints.
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I lose my chapstick so often I recognize the sound of it in the dryer. Just tumbling around….ringing the sounds of my failure
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beer on liquor get home quicker. liquor on beer the police are here
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