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We don’t know if Trappist 1-h’s theoretical moons exist or not, but the motions of these maybe-moons are still going to fuck your shit up, Cancer.
You'll be ready to snatch your body back from the erratic specter that’s possessed it---and look "snatched" doing it!
The following program is in a 24-hour feed from the woods behind a dormitory and is rated "NC" for nest cam.
Two ghosts are ready to make a move to the city, will they find an eternal haunt?
Halfway down the stairs, the humming stops, but you hear a choir of singing voices instead. “Mom?”
A skateboard is cool. No need for safety gear, either. You obviously don’t give a shit what happens to your grandkids, so a helmet would be confusing.
As she trails off, she restarts "The Office" on Netflix for the twenty-fifth time and pulls her couch blanket over herself.
The 1960s: Students are now allowed to bring lunches with them to school.
Fake News say it bad thing that me want Bavaria to be good neighbor of Transylvania. Say Dracula sadistic bloodsucking despot.
A Jack-o'-Polyamory-Pamphlets: Nothing says, "we’re leaving each other," like joining separate sex cults.
I thought that I was the king of murders that helped me achieve a sense of fulfillment, but it turns out I’m actually the king of awkward.
“Triumphant” and “human spirit” are always code for books that are shitty, depressing, and highly unlikely to have consensual oral sex of any kind.