Pride flag color picked from that one image in hbomberguy's plagiarism video
Edit: here's the version with more flags!
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God, I love giving blowjobs. I love giving someone pleasure like that. Licking, kissing and sucking their cock to find out which spots draw out the best sounds. Stroking them up and down with my mouth and hands. Letting them push my head down so they can feel the back of my throat on their dick. Gagging and hearing them groan at how good it feels. Licking their balls while I stroke their cock. Feeling them tighten up just before they fill my mouth with cum. Holy fuck, it gets me so turned on to have my mouth put to use like that.
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*carefully picks you up and peeks into your conch snail shell*
Ehm... Sorry to bother, but... Could we, maybe, possibly... see Vasco's wife and her lover pictured by your hand? Sorry again, thank you for listening. Take care.
*delicately lays you back into the water to prevent any stress or dehydration*
Unfortunately I don't have her lover figured out yet, but I think Ludovica looks something like this:
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Prompt:
After Red Hood stopped killing and someone leaked footage hinting that he's the second Robin, he expected to fight for every morsel of territory, for everybody to desert him and the murder attempts to triple.
And, well. It's not like he doesn't find himself in a rigged warehouse on Monday, walking off that one explosion with singes on his back. It's not like on Wednesday, a bullet pierces through a hole in his armour and he's losing half his blood in an alley. And sure, someone takes advantage of him throwing his helmet away on Friday (he was out of grenades and needed a bigger bomb) to fear gass him, but it's fine, he can function normally under fear gass nowadays.
Except. Except nobody deserts him. By Monday, the attempts have completely stopped. He walks into a meeting with his men and sees his goons' hands won't stop shaking, and even his lieutenant won't look him in the eyes.
Jason is confused, and so are the other bats, but soon the rumours reach their ears: you can't go after the Red Hood, because no matter what you do, once you've targeted him it's over, like a dog with a bone, he'll get you eventually- no matter how you shoot or how many explosives you use. It doesn't matter that the Red Hood doesn't kill, because the Red Hood doesn't die.
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To the people saying "Jason wouldn't have jumped into tartarus for Piper, like Percy did for Annabeth" as a way to demean him. Jason, plunged into the sky from the grand canyon to catch Piper in the first few pages of the lost hero without even knowing who she was, and without the knowledge that he could fly. so he basically jumped to his death attempting to catch her. In the first few pages of his journey, he didn't mind dying to save Piper, and ironically, that's also what he did in the last few pages of his journey. Y'all just be making the most out of pocket claims abt jason fr
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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".
Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"
And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".
Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.
At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.
So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!
Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!
Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!
Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.
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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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nah i don't fuck with ai generated fics because y'all don't sit there for weeks in front of your blank doc and cry like the rest of us
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