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sex shitpost, also Seattle Mariners 

look, I DON'T cum. I'm ace!! it just doesn't happen that often! imagine being cishet though?? having to cum EVERY time Castillo strikes out a batter??? that's not booing you're hearing, it's the sound of a bunch orgasms in the stands. (Mariners fans are immune to this effect!)
let's go Mariners!!!

sex shitpost, Seattle Mariners 

look, I can cum from some tender loving intimacy. but the CISHETS?? THEY can only cum when the Seattle Mariners' pinch-hitter scores a run! What a SAD way to have sex!!!!

sex meta joke, Seattle Mariners I guess??? 

hitting it from the back until you're hitting that mfing BOOST button!! boost this toot!! let's go Mariners!!

*discovering empathy*
"So I hear there's this weird supernatural ability that lets you know what others are feeling"

hey, you hear that? that's the sound of a very reluctant fav and boost

replacing your insides with a bunch of glass tubes, and then when we go to kiss, blowing hard into your mouth to make your body play a delightful little tune, turning you into a human ocarina

oh damn, you're an ally? cool, good for you. give me your money

ben shapiro ec 

this boy sure knows how to hold some wood

Really not sure where that last one came from but guess I'm in a mood tonight.
/shrug

death, nudity, silly, horror?? Idk. Kinda macabre actually. 

It's been 3 weeks. You haven't seen me leave my room this whole time. Not even heard a sound. You knock on my door. No response. You try to open it. It's locked. You finally get the courage to knock down the door. It busts off the hinges, displacing the multiple stuffed animals used to (unsuccessfully) block the door.

I'm sitting at my computer completely naked except for panties, coding socks, and cat ear headphones, a hexagon-patterned rgb gamer mouse steady in my hand. There are several fans running at max. Three different monitors are active and have windows open on them, each for a different social media site. Discord is open on all three, each monitor displaying a different server.

You try to call out to me, but it falls on deaf cat ears. You touch my shoulder to try and jostle me. It's cold. The ever-glowing gamer mouse slips out of my hand and falls to the ground. The hand on the mechanical keyboard shifts and causes a cascade of clacks and clicks. I slump over in my "Razer Iskur X - Hello Kitty and Friends Edition" gaming chair. I've been dead for 3 weeks, my body perfectly preserved by the several thousand dollar electic bill's worth of fans running.

You look over at my monitors again, tears in your eyes, looking desperately for a reason why my life ended like this. You see in every tab open that I had a post left unposted, each the same post. What could this mean? Is it a message? A dying request? You have to understand what horrible things happened here.
You strain to look through the tears freeflowing from your sockets, but still pulling through to glean the details of Ema Understars' Final Message:
...
...
...
It's been 6 weeks. Our roommate hasn't seen us in forever. Last they heard from you, you were going to go check to see where I'd been. They go to check your room. It's empty. They go to check my room. The door's locked.

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Talking real "I've never watched Jerma" for someone within video player distance

Fuck all these other bands and albums, "Music from Mathematics (Played by IBM7090)" is where it's at.

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