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#like full body shivers
kittencalypso · 2 years
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Im such a whore for people whispering to me- i could genuinly get off just from someone whispering things they'd like to do to me- gentle nibbles on my lobes, kisses trailing down my neck, only to lick your way back up and continue whispering dirty wishes to me💕
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highoncatfood · 2 months
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@pixelatedraindrops hiii im late but happy bday pixel!!! now i know u dont like him much but.. figured maybe ud enjoy seeing him suffer... lol
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thousandth-island · 1 year
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How to flirt with your crush:
1. Challenge to arm wrestle
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[From left to right reads:
‘genuinely trying their hardest’ ‘holding back so they can hold hands longer’
‘ouchie (ego)’ ‘lovey dovey time’s over’]
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red1sart · 2 years
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new splatoon 4 idols dropped
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whentherewerebicycles · 4 months
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my body is falling apart 😩
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melonnade · 23 days
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I wanna draw my ocs in the pieta pose so bad,,,,but then I’d have to draw
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slothful-rabbit · 1 year
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Y’all ever tried being touch starved but autistically touch resistant?
Cause that’s a different kind of confusing right there
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eyrieofsynapses · 11 months
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so many fic authors talk about how the Force screams, sings, rings, etc., but I hardly ever hear hide nor hair of how it feels when it does that, so… have a snippet I wrote to explore that. no context, just this:
when the Force screamed it was a shudder, heart-deep, as though horror had picked you up by the scruff of your neck and shook, the way disgust rattled your bones and filled your throat with bile. it was an electrocution, it was being pinned down with frozen limbs while someone pressed a burning brand to your skin, it was the universe itself rocking with unspeakable pain.
and when it sang—oh how it sang, and that was perhaps the best way of putting it, the indescribable high of music that resonated with your soul and stood the hairs on your arms up on end. it was standing in a cathedral when the choir's power met the orchestra, met the air's waves, met your eardrums, met your mind, met your heart. it was the carnal pleasure of climax, the blossom of perfectly brewed tea or a favorite dessert on the tongue, the fuzzy softness of a faultlessly woven blanket, the shock of awe at a shooting star. it was the pluck of a string in the depths of your body that you barely knew was even there, a flawless harpist strumming at your chords.
and when it whispered, it wasn't a whisper so much as it was an image at the edges of your vision, something you had forgotten that now floated a finger's breadth from your grasping hand. it was the strains of a conversation in the room next door that just crept in through the crack in the door. it was the knowledge of skin millimeters from yours, barely not touching, yet so close it was impossible not to know it was there. it was the hair rising on the back of your neck. it was glimpsing the blurred words on a sign that was too far away to be read properly, yet knowing what they said anyway, your mind unconsciously detangling shapes into words and phrases.
and when it shouted, it was not a yell in your ears but in your ribcage, rattling your lungs and organs, the rumbling pound of your heart thudding too loud, a flush of adrenaline that raced through your veins and snared your breath and shook your hands and shivered your skin and shocked you to the bone, left your knees as jelly and your eyes rolling wild as a colt first mounted.
a Force-shout wasn't an order, it was an unearthly demand that you listen—not a promise that if you didn't hear you'd be destroyed, but the utter and complete certainty that you would know what it wanted you to comprehend.
and when it wept…
the Force's sorrow was a grief that was not a flood, not an ocean, but floating in the center of a moon with a core of molten water. it was all-consuming—nothing else was thinkable—it was the drowning nothingness of depression turned up a thousandfold. it did not draw tears from your eyes but instead stole every drop of breath out of your lungs and drug you to the ground in a millisecond.
there was no room for a single spark of a sentient being to cry mere saltwater tears; it was the suffocation of the soul, racking chills that shocked you from star-hot to atom-still-cold in the space of a nanosecond. it was the bending of your ribs into your heart, bones shattering like glass stretching over the course of a hundred years. it came of the universe that knew its heat-death would come some day and did not shake in that knowledge, yet despaired not only sentient lives but the eventual cooling of the very last star.
so…
what was it to feel each of the Force's delighted sentient nerves, each sensitive that acted as a way to taste and touch and know itself, torn out of its body in an eyeblink?
what scars does it leave upon one's soul—whether you be minutes or centuries old, whether you have felt the deepest grief or only know the pain of exposure to the world beyond the womb—when you are one of those nerves, and know in intimate, gross detail how the universe felt when your thousands of fellows were ripped asunder from the fabric of its present? when your mouth is filled with the rotting copper blood of the death of something infinite?
and what does it do to a person, when you are woven so that when the strings of the universe are plucked, it is not only your mind that is aware of it, but every centimeter of your skin, ever drop of blood in your body, every neuron, every tiny mitochondria, every bit of bacteria that keeps the ember of your being burning, every atom of yourself shivers in sympathy with each swaying step of the vastness of everything that has ever existed?
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toxtricityamped · 1 year
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yk when you're going through fanfic and you see something so bad that you have like a physical reaction
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alucardsinep · 5 months
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bruh
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neeino · 5 months
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doodles
commissions info
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saintshigaraki · 2 years
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i’m really in my hawks era now
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raven · 1 year
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studying poems in english class sucks because its like. you are reading the craziest shit youve ever heard it goes so hard its rocking your world and everyone else is just like bored half asleep
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accipitae · 1 year
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Literally had to leave work because I got vertigo so bad I couldn't move my head without feeling like I was going to fall over, yet my stupid trauma brain keeps trying to tell me I'm fine actually and I'm just making it all up.
Then I move a little bit and the whole world slowly starts tilting to the side and my eyes refuse to focus.
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everybody say thank you andy serkis for a god tier lotr audiobook
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the-fat-raccoon · 2 years
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patron saint of confusion . your sacred food is cheez-its now
You know what I'm good with this I can work with this.
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