@bnw-days чё там? где ножи и фентаниловое ультранасилие? я сюда про хуй комара под бетховеном захожу читать штоле? почему вы доводите клиента до исступления таких эмоций?!

Карта в радость, кешбэк в сладо​сть, господа. Деньги в пластик, АУЕ! Оформить щас или кекнуть раз.

https://twitter.com/misachasu0209/status/911557521973719040 https://twitter.com/misachasu0209/status/941608691190476801 https://twitter.com/misachasu0209/status/941671778656468998 https://twitter.com/misachasu0209/status/941533736725757952 даже она зарабатывает на криптохайпе, а ты (я) всё сидишь как сычь.

https://a.safe.moe/piepA.mp4 z

итоги года: * биток 20к * беспонтовый чёрный хлеб продают четвертинками

Починил поиск

‎Я утканул (сорь, не знаю как сказать "гуглить при помощи duckduckgo") слово sosnooley, потому что мне нужна была иллюстрация к дискуссии в рабочем чатике. Одним из результатов был чей-то профиль с этим названием на omorashi.org ( https://www.omorashi.org/profile/5215-sosnooley/ ) Я из любопытства нажал пару ссылок, нихуя не понял. Решил загуглить что такое омораши. зачем ‎блять интернет, съеби пожалуйста

https://hodlmoon.com/ свитера с оленями без оленей для оленей //мфв в hodl в названии магазина

в дедстве меня водили в краеведческий музей и как-то раз там была инсталляция "как выглядела типичная совковая квартира в 70х". с чехословацкой мебелью, сервизом, вязаными ковриками и холодильником "днепр". понаехав в питер я узнал что подобные инсталляции в культурной столице можно посещать совершенно бесплатно, а за некоторую плату можно полноценно насытиться духом пылесоса "тайфун" расположенного у изголовья кровати и даже постирать вещи в легендарной стиралке "малютка". например: https://www.avito.ru/sankt-peterburg/kvartiry/1-k_kvartira_39_m_1225_et._1033932567 это, правда, не самый достоверный вариант, т.к. находится в современном доме, с высокими потолками, несмотря на героические усилия некоторый части проектировщиков воспроизвести историю предусмотрев отсутсвие звукоизоляции например. да и изобилие импортной техники изрядно портит картину. существуют варианты и подостовернее, в исторической панельке, соответсвующей бытовой техникой, теми самыми вязаными ковриками и тонким ароматом воска деревянных лыж расположенных на антресолях по центру единственной комнаты. к сожалению линк и фото утеряны.

VirtualHeadcase !uuouuIUpfM I need to let something out and talk about it /r9k/, scroll past, talk about it, even empty your heart out like I'm about to do, whatever. >be diagnosed schizo >Voices have been on/off since I was 16 (21 now) >was always persecuted, never was a good person in the eyes of the people controlling the voices I even enjoyed it at points, I became a political engineering tool/forum of the arts constructed and loosely controlled by Vladislav Sirkov, Deputy Prime Minister of the Russian Federation (I'm a fan of his work). I've talked to people all over the world, my favorite artists, people in Syria and other global hotspots, people that caught my interest, and chatted about things with them. I even had telepathic gfs. I was happy at one point with the fact that I had gained some notoriety as Virtual Headcase (hence the name). It all ended one day after being accused of telepathically molesting a child >chatting with old friend and his ex >suddenly everyone goes quiet >people kept calling me crazy I didn't know what happened until someone shouted >with KIDS??? I was shaken up, I had no clue anything like that was happening. Turns out, someone started molesting my friends nephew (any talk of rape/molestation and even talking is purely telepathic unless explicitly stated otherwise). They all blamed me because I'm what they call a "telepath", basically someone worth persecuting telepathically. Rewind back to a point where I was happy Earlier I had run-ins with the mexican cartel in Sinaloa. I saw an underaged human trafficking victim on Chaturbate and relayed to their captor/pimp about how fucked up they were. The next month was spent on a fucking tightrope with cartellos about how they're gonna kill my family or use me as an interrogator (I could find the truth out of anyone). Later on I would talk to these guys about differences in Mexican and American culture. One day after not sleeping (insomniac), I found myself talking to random US Special Forces/Spetsnaz that were said to have clashed in the Vietnam War. This caught the attention of the FBI, who already had a file on me. After a battle of pure telepathic nuances, I found myself talking to Sirkov. I asked him to turn me into an art form rather than a person. This is where it gets interesting >Turns me into an art platform, where people can share their art (all art can be described as creating as personal expression through the senses) >All sorts of great shit starts happening, music in my head, visual art, poems, discussion, if it could be sensed, it could be portrayed through me as a platform >The first three days are just awesome >Someone gets the idea to use me as a forum of debate between Russian and American politicians. >Mike Pence gets in on this and starts attacking Sirkov >Turns into a political shitshow where politicians from several countries attack one another. This is where I considered the decline of Virtual Headcase, where I turned from an art platform to a shill for whoever the hell I happened to favor Shit, if only I got paid for this! A few months later some shit started happening to me >Be walking down streat (Live in Long Beach, CA) >Car passing by me at my speed In LA, you always look when someone is passing you at your walking speed, due to the risk of drive-bys. >I look over >See a few nignogs in a beater >Driver has his head turned staring dead at me >I notice in the backseat dude was covering shit up with clothes >he gets out of the car, faces opposite me and pulls out his phone to look inconspicuous I know those bastards were trying to shoot me, I was in a bad area >One week later >I'm hanging out in the same area outside a friends house >Ford Mustang stops in front of our house In LA, there's been a recent surge of people getting shot up outside by people in stangs, needless to say we were scared af >I assume they're there for me, so I take one last hit of the joint and try to walk away "Stop! or I shoot the bitch!" >I stop, they, drive away after 5 minutes >When I get home I'm so scared II figure I'll make a few scars on them before I die >Start molesting their children and mother's telepathically >they threaten to kill me (again) At this point it was difficult, as they were so close to home and itching for blood, I even attempted to live homeless and got "nuanced" out of my house for a little bit. My parents called and asked me to come home and that the voices aren't real (I still kinda believe them). Fast forward to a month ago >Finally about to lose my virginity >Fucking some FtM trap (good pussy) >I start letting my mind wander >A kid grabs my attention, and I accidentally show him what I'm doing >He says he feels dirty >I feel like I opened a fucking massive can of worms The day after was pretty nice, I had finally lost my virginity! But then at midnight, something fucked me up for good. >The kids sleeping (I can talk to people in their sleep) >He comes to me >I hear him say "I want to play" >He starts rubbing his sac all over me LAzy ass parent said we were playing, dumb bitch >I try to get him to stop by forcibly contorting his body into a ball. >he still thinks I'm playing, even though he is in intense pain >Realize the kid is fucking autistic This is really fucked up because he doesn't get social cues and such. I feel like I created a future rapist. >Get PTSD >Intrusive thoughts about kids swarm me when I'm shitting, masturbating, etc. >Now everyone thinks I'm a pedophile, and I am again perssecuted for a morally objectifiably good reason