pussy pussy gang pussy pussy Gina Gina Gian

Pussy gang in da Crip yeah I hop. in the Crip with a toy on my son

Rob Gump was thinking about Una Doop again. Una was a women with charming ankles and beautiful lips. She was his wife of 37 years.

Rob walked over to the window and reflected on his empty surroundings. He had always hated the gloomy Upper Boggington with its bulbous, better broken streets. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel angry.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the outstanding figure of Una Doop.

Rob gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a risky, malicious, booty eater with also pretty ankles and handsome lips. His friends saw him as a lame, lonley loser. But once, he had helped a rabblesnatching sad old lady recover from a flying accident.

But not even a person who had once helped a rabblesnatching sad old lady recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Una had in store today.

The clouds danced like loving frogs, making Rob stressed. Rob grabbed a dirty knife that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Rob stepped outside and Una came closer, he could see the witty smile on her face.

"Look Rob," growled Una, with a deranged glare that reminded Rob of hungry rats. "I hate you and I want a divorce. You owe me 6857 doobaloons."

Rob looked back, even more stressed and still fingering the dirty knife. "Una, I still love you," he replied.

They looked at each other with intense feelings, like two hilarious, but harsh horses stomping a cowardly cat, which had skiffle music playing in the background.

Rob studied Una's charming ankles and beautiful lips. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I declared myself bankrupt," explained Rob. "You will never get your money."

"No!" objected Una. "You lie!"

"I do not!" retorted Rob. "Now get your charming ankles out of here before I hit you with this dirty knife."

Una looked sad, her wallet raw like a rough, relieved rock.

Rob felt his heart shatter into 6857 pieces. Then the hungry ankle charmer hurried away into the distance.

Not even a plate of booty would calm Rob's nerves tonight.
 

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗘𝗡𝗗


"𝙄 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙍𝙤𝙗 𝙂𝙪𝙢𝙥. 𝙄𝙣 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙮, 𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙄'𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙢."
- 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘿𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙏𝙖𝙡𝙚

"𝘼𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙖𝙨 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙨𝙚𝙖𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙩𝙨."
- 𝙀𝙣𝙞𝙙 𝙆𝙞𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙧

"𝙎𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙𝙨 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙩."
- 𝙆𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙛

"𝙄 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙙𝙤 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧."
- 𝙕𝙤𝙗 𝙂𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙥

Risky Rob Gump

Sly B. Dickens is a 31-year-old personal trainer who enjoys running, photography and stealing candy from babies. He is wise and down to earth, but can also be very devious and a bit stealthy.

He is a Canadian atheist who defines himself as straight. He started studying sports science at college but never finished the course. He is allergic to peanuts. He is obsessed with selfies.

Physically, Sly is in pretty good shape. He is average-height with fair skin, black hair and dark brown eyes. He has one or two distinguishing features including a birthmark on his right hip, and a nasal kink. He grew up in a working class neighbourhood. He was raised in a happy family home with two loving parents.

He is currently in a relationship with Jami Carolina Pearce. Jami is 3 years younger than him and works as a screenplay writer.

Sly's best friend is a personal trainer too, named Rob Gump. They have a very firey friendship. He also hangs around with Delores Parsons and Fleur Brock. They enjoy spreading fake news on Facebook together.

Sly B. Dickens

Quick! There's no time to waste when a toilet needs attention! Fortunately, you have the perfect expert in your phone to get the job done.

Fetch The Plumber

Why is MUG 16% off right now? Here's the answer: 

MUG is a new concept in delivery of services in the country. It is a two-in-one package that consists of a mug and a charger. The mugs are available in white and black. To use the mug, simply add the desired liquid, and enjoy!
     
You can always find an excuse not to go out with friends - the weather, work, family, you name it. But the truth is, you can never know when the next time you will have a chance to have some fun. The charger is a plug that fits into the side pocket of your jacket. Plug it in; and, like everything else in life, the world changes forever.

The second thing you need to know about Mug! is its size. It's around the size of a standard coffee cup. This means that every single item inside is smaller than it appears, meaning that you could buy ten cups of tea for less than a dollar each, and still be able to buy them all at the same time.

If you think that this sounds ridiculous, there is a handle on it, too, but that's more for aesthetics than anything else. It will allow you to hold it with ease, and if you're feeling particularly adventurous, you may even be able to pull up a chair or table to take a seat on.

The biggest difference between these two products is that a normal person doesn't know what to do with their phone. They might sit in front of it and stare at the screen, occasionally scrolling through the app's contents. But once they get tired of sitting there, they can throw the phone away and move on to something else. This problem occurs in order to prevent someone from throwing their phone away. If you were going to throw your phone away, why couldn't you just open an online messaging app, or even throw it in the nearest trashcan. Then, the mug itself wouldn't weigh as much, meaning that you would only need half the load. As a consequence, the cost wouldn't be worth it - although I'm sure you're well aware of the price difference already.

Now, if we're being technical, you should know all about MUG!

2 Things U Must KNOW About MUG!

Year 2924
Osiris is a small space station that resembles a pyramid. The station is a low-gravity environment, and all of the major components are made of metal, with some composite materials. What's more is that it's a research facility that doubles as a starship for the crew. It's the first manned space station in the solar system, and has been active since 2196. It is a heavily armed space station, with a total of thirty six stations, two of which are armed with nuclear weapons. In spite of its name, Osiris is not in orbit around the star Osiris; it is in orbit around the gas giant Osiris, additionally, that gas giant was named after Osiris, god of the deceased. The space station is the domicile of a small colony of Earth's original pioneers. Over the years, they have learned to live with the fact that their world, Earth, is now a cold, arid world. Deceased.

Year 4455 
The Osiris is the last space station to be attacked by the Vore. Once the pride and joy, now... It is a place of death. Death is all around them. In the dark, the ship's systems are failing. It was demolished in a single day and a single attack, yet for all its apparent usefulness, it has left a trail of destruction and death across the galaxy. 

The Vore have attacked it. It has been destroyed. You were there. You were in charge. And you failed.

https://vore-station.net

Osiris

The world is cold. It’s snowing heavily, and if I look up at the sky it’s clear of clouds or any sort of precipitation that could make things harder for anyone unfortunate enough to be out in this weather. My seasonal depression isn’t doing any favors for me in the first place, but I can’t even blame myself, I mean how am I supposed to deal with being stuck inside during the winter when my house is just barely big enough for us to comfortably live in? And yet here I am, standing in the midst of a forest in the middle of fucking nowhere at eight in the morning, freezing, while everyone else had some kind of important business to attend to. That doesn’t stop the thought from coming back though, as it often does, and I find it difficult not to keep thinking about how unfair everything is to me when usually I don’t give a shit what other people think. Maybe it’s my own self-pity talking, perhaps I’m just angry about being abandoned by the world at large while still trying to pretend it never happened. Whatever it is, it makes me angry. I’d rather be angry than scared, so I suppose it really shouldn't be all that surprising when the anger turns into the next worst emotion, panic, which leads to more anger, and then more panic. Then comes anger again because nothing works right. Nothing works properly in this world anyway, there’s no rhyme or reason, It just goes from good to bad to good to even worse, just like that. No one seems to have an explanation for it, so they leave you to figure it out yourself. And now I’m crying and I don’t know why but I do. Because I hate feeling helpless, instead of stopping to figure out why I’m crying I keep going forward. That’s the worst part of it too; I’m sure most people wouldn’t care at all that I’m freaking out, if they only knew half of it they probably wouldn’t even give two shits. It's stupid to feel guilty for having problems when the world should be treating you equally regardless, but here I am, trying to act like the rest of them when I know deep down that they don’t understand. So I try, I do my best to learn to ignore it, to forget that there ever was a time when it wasn’t always present in my life. But sometimes it comes back and I wish I didn’t, wish I were stronger than this. I want something, anything to change. Anything at all, and I hate that because it means I want a damn break and I hate myself for thinking that I deserve it after everything else I’ve done wrong. I’ve hurt a lot of people. I haven’t been good at school. I didn’t tell enough people how I felt, and I can’t even get over a dumb accident. Sometimes I wish I couldn’t be normal and that we never got our abilities because the whole thing would be easier. And when I’m like this I almost wish I was dead. Even if there was such thing as an afterlife, would I go? Is there even such a thing as a heaven? I guess there has to be somewhere else, but I don’t believe in it so I’ll settle for hell. I’ve heard a lot of things about it, things like the afterlife and Hell. Hell isn’t exactly the most welcoming place, but there’s something nice about knowing that there is another place where I will never have to be alone again. Maybe I don’t deserve forgiveness, not when I’m so used to taking it all for granted.

Desultory Snowfall

There is nothing in the world like sunlight. It’s beautiful and warm, and it brings out the colors of everything; the greens of the grass, the blues of the sky, even the yellow of the sun itself. And sometimes when that happens, it overlooks the bridge above the waterway, staring at how it decorates the sky in shades of rose and pink. On sunny days, it looked almost like something that someone had painted there. Or maybe it was just natural – a natural occurrence. Something you don't see every day. But most importantly, whenever that happened, it found itself gazing up at the sun for hours on end. Its light made things glow with its beauty, and it shined so brightly that if it were to fall, no one would believe it could fall. The sun was too powerful to be allowed to crash. There was a sense that the gods had blessed it, allowing it to serve as the sole source of light on the plane. Even on the darkest night, the sun still managed to shine, despite how dark the clouds became over time. The sun seemed to thrive. It seemed to make life happier simply by being around. And yet, nobody knew why or how it was able to do this, but everyone agreed it was stunning.
And, most notably, because of the sun, they all love talking about it. Though the sun shone constantly, it was barely visible from outside. Sometimes it would shine, but people couldn't help but stare right back at its blinding brightness as soon as they looked up. Not too much, but enough to show off how bright it was. That’s how the people of the universe think, or at least the majority. However, when the sun did touch down on earth, it wasn't what everyone expected. No one ever thought about the possibility that the sun would not always shine. Sunlight wasn't something they pondered much about. Could they live without the sun? What would happen if the sun did move along with the seasons, or if the moon fell over one night, only to rise a few days later, without the sun's light covering it again? How long will the sun stay above them, shining over their heads and warming their skin? How many more sunrises and sunsets will pass until the sun completely disappears from sight for good, leaving the planet shrouded in darkness?
As long as I can remember, the sun never set on Earth. But now, finally, for once, it was going to.
The world was celebrating it. They called it ‘The Night.’ The sky was full of stars, galaxies, and comets. Some humans, especially teenagers and adults who were born under the same starlight that lit the night, would look up at the sky and watch until dawn. Those people were not ordinary. No one was the same – except those kids and adults. They were average compared to the rest. Normal in appearance. Normal in the mind. Normal in the soul.
For most of humanity, the moon was always their home. Their only real home. The moon and stars shine brighter than anything else in their world. And while that doesn’t mean you can't enjoy the sun, it does mean that it may take quite a while before you truly realize that something is gone and won’t be coming back. As a child, I was terrified of the sun. Scared that it would burn me if it got close enough. Scared that if I looked at it for more than a few seconds, the light would blind me, turning my eyes red and causing severe headaches. My mother tried her best to protect me from it, but there are always some parts of our world that we cannot shield ourselves from. She would hold my hand and lead me through the forest during the summer, pointing out trees and telling me stories. The sun burned everything she pointed out to me. But eventually, as I grew older, I understood that the sun did indeed return every day and it never hurt me if I was prepared for it. When I was young, I lived my entire life watching the sun rise up and set down. If I had my own telescope, I would watch it rise and set every morning and night.

God's Gift

Anxiety tastes like fear running down your throat and into your head. Anxiety feels like a balloon getting deflated every second every minute of your life. Anxiety sounds like the bully that lives inside your head always questioning you and telling you what to do. Anxiety is a monster, an evil person with no redeeming features whatsoever. It's all in your head, it's all in your head, and you're not okay, you just aren't. When people ask if you're okay, you simply nod. Whether or not you are okay, is the only response. And that response has been repeated so many times that no amount of repetitions will change the truth. Your parents know, and neither of them tries to talk to you about it. The truth is, you aren't ready to deal with it. Not yet anyway. A few weeks later, your father calls to check up on you while on his way home from work. He knocks twice before opening the door but you hear him coming. The sound of footsteps approaching your room makes your heart beat faster, and you brace yourself for the worst. But when you see your father standing there, he doesn't look at you with judgmental eyes, and he doesn't even look upset. He looks concerned. That isn't good enough. If he looks this worried over something you did wrong then things must be bad. You don't deserve sympathy from anyone; especially not from your own dad. You can't stand the sight of his face, because his concern is making you feel worse. Your dad sits down next to you on your bed, and you pull away from his touch instinctively. The touch is too much, and you hate it. You've never felt like this towards another living being before, except maybe yourself. Even then, you're usually too afraid to care much about whom you hurt. Now, though, your fear turns out to be warranted. Your father touches you again, and this time his hand is a lot gentler than before as if trying to calm you down. You feel guilty for scooting away, and that guilt only intensifies when he says something you don't understand. 
"What do you mean, I don't deserve sympathy?" you whisper, your voice sounding broken. 
Your father sighs, "I'm sorry to say this, but I think you might have some mental health issues." He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is firm. "You need help, and I'm going to make sure that help, helps you." He takes a breath, before continuing. "This isn't something I ever wanted to happen to you, but I'll do whatever it takes to make it better." He places a comforting hand on your shoulder, and you flinch away. "Just... Don' be scared okay? Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I promise. You'll get help, and then you'll be back to normal again." He lets go of your shoulder and stands up. He moves to leave but stops when you reach out, grabbing onto the sleeve of his shirt. He slowly leans forward to hug you, but he seems to realize you're still uncomfortable and pulls back, giving you a sad smile. "Don't worry, little bug. I won't leave you, I promise." And with those words, you believe him. You feel sick, even after he leaves your room because he didn't tell you what was going on. He didn't tell you how he knows about your problem or what he plans to do to fix it. You want to tell him. Tell him everything. But you can't bring yourself to open your mouth and scream it all out. You're terrified that if you speak, then you might ruin everything. Your breathing becomes labored, and suddenly it's hard to breathe. But instead of telling someone about it, you just keep quiet, as you wait for nightfall.
When you finally do fall asleep, you dream. You dream about your life with your dad, and how happy you were. You dream about a family, and how much love you had for each other. You dream about happiness. You dream about peace.

Kids Love Anxiety

Unfortunately, the completion of the song "The Real Deal" was derailed by an unfortunate incident that occurred on January 3rd, 2023. In the midst of working on the song, I accidentally spilled water on my laptop, causing significant damage to the device. As a result, much of the work that had been done on the song was lost, including key recordings, lyrics, and other elements that were essential to the final product.

Despite my efforts to salvage what I could from the damaged laptop, it quickly became clear that "The Real Deal" would remain unfinished for the time being. While it was certainly frustrating to have the project derailed by something as mundane as a spilled drink, I recognized that accidents do happen and that setbacks are simply part of the creative process.

Of course, I remain hopeful that one day I will be able to return to the project and complete it in a way that does justice to the original vision. Until then, however, I am simply grateful for the time that I was able to spend working on the song, and for the memories that I created in the process. In the end, that's what music is all about: the journey, not just the destination.

UNFINISHED

Lo! It be an enemy!                    Gang, wherefore art thou? Lo! It be an enemy.                     Gang, wherefore art thou? Lo! It be an enemy!                    O Brother, where art thou? 
Skrrrt bop bop gang gang gang! 
                                                       O Brother, where art thou? I'm on my wagon.              
                                                       O Brother, where art thou?
                                                          Where art thou, brother?
                                                          Where art thou, brother? 
I do hear foes.

Disoriented

Thirteen days of relentless torture had left me broken and defeated. I had no choice but to stop, but the pain and anguish of the past several months worth of loneliness and grief still weighed heavy on my heart. The absence of vindication only added to my despair, leaving me feeling lost and purposeless. Despite my struggles, the one constant remained - he was still dead, and the echoes of his screams reverberated through my mind like a never-ending nightmare. The memory of his laughter, once a source of joy, now felt like a cruel mockery of my pain.

Samir

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