girloftheforest

Fucking hell, guys, my morning started with finding two of m..

Fucking hell, guys, my morning started with finding two of my favorite milk drinks, expired a month ago, frozen to the back wall of the fridge. Imagine my surprise when I discovered they were spoiled! And I only figured this out after chugging half a bottle in one go. But whatever, that’s not the worst thing that’s happened. No, because yesterday, I nearly said goodbye to life itself.

You think it was a car accident? A heart attack? No, it was far worse. I fucking watched another episode of Hannibal.

Jesus fucking Christ, what a pile of shit. I can’t. I physically cannot listen to these pompous, pseudo-medical dialogues that sound like they were written by a nine years old with a crush on Mads Mikkelsen. I can’t stand his one-note fucking facial expression or these idiotic diagnoses delivered with the kind of gravitas that’s supposed to leave me convulsing from his supposed brilliance—except all I’m convulsing from is how stupid it is. And don’t even get me started on the “investigations,” which are solved by Will’s magical bullshit powers instead of actual detective work.

Who the fuck are the people giving this garbage such high ratings? Are they cavemen who just discovered moving pictures and lost their minds? Listen, never do what I’m doing right now—don’t insult people for their tastes. That’s for kids.

But now I’m speaking to real men here. I fucking believe that anyone who enjoys bodily fluids like Nosferatu 2024 or Hannibal should have their internet cut off, smash all their devices, and step outside for the first time in their miserable lives. Preferably, they should try to get an education—preferably in something technical (though I doubt they have the brain cells for it)—just to learn how basic laws of nature, logic, and human interaction work. Or at least finish the school they dropped out of to sit at home jerking off to their Evangelion figurines.

Fuck. What a disaster. On the bright side, people like that probably have healthier necks since their heads weigh 1.3 kg less.

And now… well, not about something great, but something acceptable. So, the show Outlander. My mom is a huge fan of the books and the series and has been begging me to watch it with her for ages. Honestly, I thought it would be, like… a historical drama or something. With that grim, oppressive gray atmosphere that Game of Thrones sometimes has. The result was… well, not disappointing, but completely different.

Picture a woman in her 40s, a fan of cheap fantasy novels about maidens, dark lords, and all that kind of crap, who hasn’t been in a normal relationship in ages—or maybe ever. Also, she’s obsessed with Scotland and men half of her age. Now imagine her, ahem, writing a fanfic… I haven’t read the books, I’m just describing the vibe the show gives off.

The plot is simple: a woman from the post-WWII era falls through some magic stones (like Stonehenge, but cheaper-looking) into old-timey Scotland—the time of the Jacobites and all that stuff I don’t really know much about. She ends up sympathizing with the Scottish side of things, and since she’s a nurse who served in the war, she has super badass skills. She gets to know the perfect guy—who also happens to be a virgin (seriously, he’s ideal in every way, inside and out)—and they get married for “rational reasons.” And let me tell you, most of the “rational reasons” in this series are like, “Oh no, they both showed up at the inn, but there was only one bed, so they had to share it.” If you’ve ever read mid-tier romantic novels or women’s fanfics, you know exactly what I mean.

Anyway, the main character hangs out with the Scots, gets captured by the English, escapes, and generally kicks ass. She’s strong, beautiful, smart, with perfect curls, flawless makeup, and gorgeous dresses. It’s immediately clear who the main character is (like in anime). Her virgin husband is also obviously not a background character—his body is gym-sculpted perfection, he has a model’s face, and his hair is perfectly styled. All of this looks absolutely hilarious against the backdrop of the other characters, whose actors were clearly cast for historical authenticity—they’re sturdy but not overbuilt, not super clean, not very attractive, often scruffy or overweight. Basically, they look normal. But don’t forget, this is a fanfic.

The series is just dripping with sex—both positive and, well, not so positive. Sex, sex, sex—everywhere. Last night there was literally an entire episode of the main characters having sex and reminiscing about their wedding. I almost died of secondhand embarrassment, but honestly, it was hilarious.

I’d actually recommend this show if you’re watching it with a best friend—you’ll die laughing because there’s cringe on every corner. But at the same time, the plot is engaging, and the actors are super charming.

Oh, also, I saved a spider from my bathtub, but I do that every day anyway. And I’ve started reading A Terrible Vengeance by Gogol—it’s really interesting, and I’ll tell you all about it later.

Amazing morning (14:24)

Amazing morning (14:24)

Pussy, spread legs, some doggy, surprisingly no tits. Pls bu..

Pussy, spread legs, some doggy, surprisingly no tits.
Pls buy it because I spent all my money on pellets for the boiler.
My close friend has been wanting me to watch Hannibal for ages. I resisted for a long time because I had started watching it years ago but quickly gave up—I don’t even remember why. But she’s going through another wave of intense love for Hannibal (he’s like Melkor for me), so I finally gave in. Of course, I won’t tell her this, but oh my god, what an utterly degenerate piece of crap. I’m on episode 8 of the first season, and I’m absolutely floored by how dumb and boring it is.

I wasn’t expecting a delicate, masterful work of art with stunning acting like The Silence of the Lambs, but I did expect a decent, stylish detective series with intricate cases, deep and well-thought-out psychological portraits of the characters, and intense, sharp dynamics between the main leads. Instead, I got a fanfiction written by a 13-year-old obsessed with true crime, gay ships, pseudo-psychology, and excessive drama.

Jesus Christ, how can the dialogue be this stupid? The quotes sound like something a pretentious teenager would put as a social media status, and yet this is how all the characters talk. Instead of saying, “I shat in pants,” a character will say something like, “My gut was struck by an unseen yet sharply felt menace, my carelessness played a cruel trick on me, and a piquant reminder of Belgian chocolate, unbearably tainting the air, has desecrated my attire.” And that’s not an exaggeration; everyone talks like this—the cops, the patients, Hannibal himself.

And Hannibal? He’s just an absolute mess. I still don’t understand what he’s supposed to be—a psychologist, psychotherapist, psychiatrist, surgeon, or just some chef who bought a diploma in a back alley yesterday. I’m leaning toward the last one, though I suspect even the writers haven’t figured it out. He goes around with the same expression on his face, delivering painfully obvious observations in the convoluted style I just described.

For context: I come from a family of psychiatrists and a prosecutor-turned-lawyer. Watching these “deep” monologues had me looking like I’d just bitten into a lemon. It’s painfully obvious that the writers have never spoken to or consulted anyone in these professions. This is pure fantasy from someone ignorant and stupid, imagining psychiatrists as these edgy, spooky enigmas. And the way the psychiatrists in the show talk to each other? It’s like they’re cartoon villains plotting world domination.

Then there’s Will, the investigator—or whatever he’s supposed to be. What a joke. He solves cases using literal magic. The detective aspect of the series makes no sense at all because the protagonist is basically a psychic wizard. On top of that, he walks around like an idiot, trembling, rubbing his hands together, sitting there with this look on his face like he wet his pants. The writers labeled this Asperger’s syndrome, but it’s clear they didn’t even bother Googling what that actually is. Will is just a melodramatic attention-seeker with a flair for theatrics and melancholy. He draws attention to himself by constantly suffering. Oh, and did I mention he’s apparently a wizard or sorcerer or something?

Hannibal’s supposed “interest” in Will as a psychiatrist makes zero sense. There’s nothing unique or special about Will as a patient—psychiatrists deal with people like him by the dozen. The only reason their chemistry exists is that they’re both men, and the writers love a good slow-burn gay romance between boys who want to play with their magic wands.

The only genuinely good aspect of the series, which starts being decently explored around episode 7, is the theme of friendship between a patient and a doctor. It’s a raw, relevant, and emotional topic, and the dialogue in these scenes—for once—feels like it was written by someone who’s actually spoken to real humans. Oh, and the food in the show is amazing.

I have no idea who gave this series such high ratings. Probably kids, die-hard Mads Mikkelsen fans, and those same brain-dead monkeys who think Walter White is a sexy, righteous character and hate Skyler.

If you want to watch something good, go watch The Silence of the Lambs. That movie puts real effort into crafting meaningful interactions between the characters. And, oh my god, the diagnoses in the film actually match reality.

If you’re looking for a solid gay drama with attractive actors and a heartfelt, complex plot, Billy Herrington, Van Darkholme, and others deliver a far deeper emotional impact and demonstrate far superior acting skills.

I’m all about the frames right now. These past few days, I’v..

I’m all about the frames right now. These past few days, I’ve been cleaning portraits of ancestors that are over a hundred years old. There was mold, tons of dirt, and even some old insects. I’ve cut my fingers on the glass and splinters about 200 times and probably caught every strain of anthrax in the process. I took them to a workshop to get new backings and art glass. Once I get them back, I’ll hang them on the wall and take some pictures. I really hope OnlyFans doesn’t flag them as unregistered faces on the platform. Tagging people who’ve been gone for a century is, uh, a bit tricky.

A post for those who not only recognize letters but also und..

A post for those who not only recognize letters but also understand words. There are few of you on my page, and you have my respect. The rest of you can go discuss penises or the weather, or have a fight, or whatever it is men usually do. I enjoy studying my subscribers and, more broadly, OnlyFans users. You know, while you’re looking into the abyss, the abyss looks back at you—something like that.

This is mostly about those who support me financially and buy my posts. I generally try to make my photos somewhat aesthetic and with a bit of concept behind them. But, as it happens, I don’t have a huge photo studio, an army of stylists and makeup artists to create stunning looks for me every day. I’m just a regular person like you, lying in bed, eating pizza, and hanging out at home most of the time.

What I’m trying to say is that originality here is hard to achieve. When I occasionally complain about this to my subscribers, I always get the same response: they don’t really care about the “concept” of the photos—they like a specific pose, a specific body part, or a specific face, and they just want to see it again. And again. And again. And they’re perfectly happy to pay for it.

This has always puzzled me. The internet is overflowing with porn and erotica, and my Jewish looks and plus-size body are far from unique. If the photos were interesting, that would make sense—but people genuinely want the same thing over and over again, and it’s never about the overall aesthetics but rather about detailed displays of nudity.

As I mentioned, with the abundance of this kind of content online, it feels strange to me. Looking at the pages of other OnlyFans creators, I also noticed that their paid content tends to be very repetitive. I’m not talking about super-rich, famous models with yachts, planes, and loads of plastic surgery—we’re the broke plebeians here, that’s not our world. I mean regular girls—they sell boobs, pussies, and butts. Sometimes they insert things, spread things with their hands, squeeze things. And then they do it all over again.

I also looked at the pages of a few creators who started at the same time as I did. That gave my ego a little boost—they haven’t even reached a fraction of the popularity I have. These are people who seem conventionally attractive and post straightforward porn, yet they have no tips, no likes, no comments from real people.

My page stands out because there’s relatively little explicit content here—it’s essentially a blog for readers. And that’s where I started connecting the dots. The people who pay me are readers. And these people don’t just want sex—they want sex with me specifically. Not just physical sex, but intimacy.

They want to imagine me in bed as they picture me—a multifaceted person: angry, envious, mocking, romantic, passionate, vulnerable. In short, different. The recurring photos of certain sexy parts aren’t purchased because these people just want to see a generic ass or wonder what I look like naked—they want to be with me in the moment. To imagine our intimacy here and now.

Maybe they’re not consciously aware of this, but the fact that I post something today and they see it minutes or hours later gives them the feeling of connecting with me on the other side of the screen. They know I was here - right next to them.

It’s not just a picture of an ass—it’s a living, breathing, warm body carrying a living soul. And, of course, it’s a body with a cool ass. That’s why these posts are so desirable.

My friends, I want sex so badly these days that I’m about to..

My friends, I want sex so badly these days that I’m about to eat my laptop, phone, and bedside table🫠🫠🫠

Finally some good content on onlyfans

Finally some good content on onlyfans

As you might have guessed, I had another appointment with my..

As you might have guessed, I had another appointment with my psychiatrist yesterday. For new followers: I have clinical depression. I told her that overall, things are okay — I run my blog, my days are filled with various pleasant activities, I go to the gym regularly, take care of my beloved pellet boiler, and so on. But she also asked about suicidal thoughts, and I told her the truth: every day, constantly. I mean, I’m not going to lie. She wasn’t happy with that answer and increased my dosage.

What else could I say? I’ve been dreaming of suicide since I was 13. I’ve never attempted it because I’m not the type to act out or seek attention. I don’t want people to notice me — I just want to end it, once and for all. But I can’t, because I feel responsible — for my mom, for the dogs. And beyond that, I have no reason to keep living. I don’t like life; it’s not for me. I feel too much, get unbearably exhausted too quickly. For me, studying and working aren’t just unpleasant routines; they’re terrifying ordeals. Any high achievements I’ve managed to reach have come at the cost of exhausting, soul-crushing effort. And none of it was ever extraordinary. I’m just like a disabled person — but mentally.

I envy people who can sit through three-hour lectures or work a full day. My brain just shuts down, becomes unbearably heavy, like a stone, after just half an hour. And the worst part? I can’t even openly call this “disability.” It just looks like laziness — so much so that even I sometimes believe it until I find myself among other people — normal, capable people — and realize how different I am.

So why should I want to live? The world is ugly, gray. The vast majority of people are moral degenerates or outright monsters. You have to pay insane amounts just to meet basic human needs. If you build a home with your own hands, you still have to pay the government for the right to live in it — a government that does nothing for you, only cranking up the levels of theft year after year. The world is full of filth, poverty, murder, and violence — yet the right to life and to have children is considered basic and inviolable, even for such “people.”

Everything around us is aging, dying. And it usually dies through horrific illnesses. You, too, are covered in wrinkles, more and more each day, and you realize you’ve never even been happy. You crave love and mutual affection more than anything in the world, but you’re so pitiful that you can’t even love yourself. To survive — just to have money for some small pleasures — you have to destroy yourself daily, crush your own soul, wake up in the morning to a completely insane schedule. You do meaningless work or studies bogged down with so much bureaucracy that they’ve lost all purpose. You listen to the idiocy of fools who hold power only because they’re someone’s brother, sister, friend or lover.

You have no way to change anything because the individual has become pathetically insignificant in this enormous meat grinder. I didn’t choose this life. I don’t want it. No matter how “healthy” I might be in terms of neurotransmitters, I will never want this. I won’t want to eat shit, whether my stomach is sick or perfectly healthy. Shit is still shit.

On a lighter note, those instant noodles I had for breakfast? They were pretty great.

Guys, my antidepressant dosage has been increased again. Tha..

Guys, my antidepressant dosage has been increased again. That’s a win.

Guys, I took some crappy photos with my ass and pussy (no cl..

Guys, I took some crappy photos with my ass and pussy (no close up but I will do one day). There’s also a video where I lick my fingers. I recently subscribed to a couple of other creators, and I was honestly shocked that they sell stuff like this. Can someone explain to me why you like it? I’m genuinely curious, and I respect all opinions. Btw I love my hair so much 😩😩😩

Yesterday, Dasha and I came to Riga for some errands and sta..

Yesterday, Dasha and I came to Riga for some errands and stayed the night at my apartment. We had an amazing meal—delicious, super-fatty burgers—and watched shows about various homeless people and murders. We slept in the same bed, and Dasha hugged me from behind, cuddling me like I was her little spoon. I swear, in that moment, I wanted to have sex so badly that I almost came right then and there. It’s such a shame I’m not a lesbian 😩😩😩

Hi guys, please be so kind as to vote for my ass in this cra..

Hi guys, please be so kind as to vote for my ass in this crappy contest - https://onlyfans.com/1473380412/sergio_free - number 3. Or don’t, it’s up to you. I’m just shocked by the audacity of the contest organizer, who aggressively stated that all creators are required to send out messages and beg their subscribers for votes, or else they’ll achieve nothing. It’s painfully obvious that this benefits only the organizer, not the participants. Regular users who vote will support their favorite creator, but they’ll also check out other photos and subscribe to the ones they like. They couldn’t care less about who wins or loses. The increased number of voters only serves the person running the contest since you have to subscribe to their page to access the voting link.

And honestly, that’s whatever—everyone knows that OnlyFans is, for the most part, a terribly corrupt platform. But it’s this pushy attitude and aggression that pissed me off. Spit on organizers like that.

Here’s my pointless post-shower ass for you. I went to the g..

Here’s my pointless post-shower ass for you. I went to the gym today, had a great workout, but something seriously irritated me. As I was getting ready to leave, I crossed paths in the locker room with a girl, probably around 16–20 years old. She had just arrived and was wearing a short fur jacket, even though it was freezing and snowing outside.

She started changing, and normally, I wouldn’t care, but, guys, the way she acted was just infuriating. She was extremely skinny—arms like twigs, a wide bony pelvis, and long, thin legs. Basically, typical very skinny due to malnourishment figure. She put on light gray leggings that clung uncomfortably tight right into her bony butt, paired with a cropped top, then tied her hair up in a high ponytail—perfectly clean, straightened hair, by the way. Her face was done up with heavy “natural” makeup, including thick false lashes, and she put on large, expensive white headphones, the kind that clearly aren’t gym-friendly—they’d get gross and sweaty in seconds.

Then, for what felt like five minutes, she stood in front of the mirror adjusting her headphones and her hair, occasionally taking selfies. But, God, the absolute worst part was how she walked—arching her lower back as far as possible and sticking out her bony butt as if it were some kind of muscular masterpiece. You could tell she didn’t actually have lordosis because every so often she’d forget to maintain the pose. And her face—ugh, that exaggerated, performative, fake-supermodel expression.

The thing is, a lot of men are into this type of girl. They mistake this whole absurd performance for elegance, femininity, and sophistication. It’s like the female equivalent of a “bad boy”—where women mistake idiocy and rudeness for masculinity.

Later, as I was leaving the gym, I noticed her “running” on the elliptical, and calling it running would be generous. You know that meme with the aliens from Men in Black? Yeah, it was that.

I spent some time thinking about why this got under my skin so much. At first, I wondered if it was jealousy—because she’s skinny—but I ruled that out right away. I know plenty of girls at the gym who are leaner and more athletic than I am, and I only feel admiration for them. Then I remembered an old post I wrote about the kinds of women I can’t stand, and, yep, this is exactly it: women who go out of their way to conform to patriarchal standards.

These are the types who will swear up and down that stuffing their ass into leggings, contorting their spine, and caking on foundation at the gym is totally their choice and that they’re doing it to feel good about themselves. And, of course, the beauty industry—hiding behind a thin veneer of pseudo-feminism—will happily validate them while selling more foundation or gray leggings. And then, we’ll see more and more nine-year-old girls in tiny crop tops buying makeup because, hey, it’s all just self-expression, right? 🤡

Notice, I’m not saying they’re trying to appeal specifically to men. Surprisingly, I actually think men are people too and even capable of rational thought (shocking, I know). A mature man with his own needs fulfilled will naturally be attracted to a woman who respects herself—her boundaries, her body, and her time.

But the beauty industry, created by homosexual designers with an interest in prepubescent boys, plastic surgeons, cosmetic companies, and fitness brands, will do everything it can to ensure that people don’t respect themselves—and that they pay for it, too. Women, being a more socially vulnerable group, often fall victim to this trap. And so, striving to conform to something that has neither purpose nor meaning starts to feel more important than simply being.

Spending time with my beloved (for those who are new subscri..

Spending time with my beloved (for those who are new subscribers, just to clarify—I’m in love with my pellet boiler and want to give it my virginity, but I haven’t figured out how yet).

I have this persistent feeling that I’m trying to box myself..

I have this persistent feeling that I’m trying to box myself in on OnlyFans. I get caught up in this competition of naked bodies, chasing subscribers, and participating in contests. The further I go, the more out of place I feel when I post something just for myself. I start thinking, “This isn’t attractive, no one will pay for this, it’ll push away potential subscribers.” It’s a bad feeling because it feels like I’m betraying myself. The uniqueness of my page lies in the fact that it’s me. To make sure I’m not lost in the noise of the world, I need to stay true to myself.

Yeah, I’m not a celebrity, and I don’t have a billion subscribers throwing pizza money my way. But it’s more important to stay authentic and earn through my own work rather than trying to please strangers.

Guys, I wanted to write a post, but I’m too lazy. So I just ..

Guys, I wanted to write a post, but I’m too lazy. So I just wish you all cool calluses and comfy cotton underwear.

Damn, Nosferatu 2024 and his facial hair are still burning m..

Damn, Nosferatu 2024 and his facial hair are still burning my ass three days after watching the film. Do you see the difference between the hairstyles and mustaches on these men in the pictures? Because the creator of that post doesn’t. And apparently, neither do a ton of people on Facebook. Which raises the question—do they lack eyes or brains? I’d wager the latter, along with the fact that Facebook is now crawling with AI bots riding the hype train or fulfilling someone’s agenda to create the illusion of popularity.

I get that Robert Eggers is an American director, and he couldn’t care less about Eastern Europe, but it drives me insane that people online are genuinely trying to justify Orlok’s utterly inappropriate and idiotic look in the 2024 adaptation by pointing out that Gary Oldman’s Dracula had a mustache, or Vlad the Impaler in his portrait, or Dracula from Castlevania, or some other random characters. Unfortunately, I can’t post screenshots with actual actors here because OnlyFans bans that kind of stuff.

And seriously, I just don’t understand—how can people not see the glaring difference between aristocratic men with elegant hairstyles and mustaches that clearly reflect Western European origins and are stylized to fit the film, and a rotting undead ghoul with a chub haircut and the mustache of a Zaporizhian Cossack? Speaking of the real Dracula, hairstyles in Wallachia during his reign reflected a mix of local traditions, Byzantine influences, and Western European fashion—not Southern Ukraine! Orlok, living in the Carpathian Mountains, would be highly unlikely to sport a Cossack-style haircut.

As I’ve said before, it’s likely the director just didn’t care enough, and couldn’t be bothered to spend three minutes Googling hairstyle history. Alternatively, it might have been an attempt to blend Western and Eastern European cultures and give Orlok a “barbaric” or “exotic” look. But this dull and lifeless Orlok is nothing like the bold and eccentric Cossacks, and certainly bears no resemblance to the classic image of Basavriuk—the sorcerer from St. John’s Eve, Gogol’s story set in a Ukrainian village, which perfectly captures local color. Basavriuk is fierce, cunning, aggressive, charismatic, and dangerous. While Gogol doesn’t provide a detailed description of his hairstyle, the vast majority of artists depict him with a chub and long mustache—appropriate for the region.

So why am I even writing this post? Because this film is everywhere right now, and the debates about Orlok’s mustache just won’t die. Instead of simply saying, “It’s cool, and I personally liked it,” some people start dragging in images of other mustachioed vampire men as if it’s a valid comparison. Well, why not throw in Hitler while you’re at it? I mean, he’s a killer, and Orlok’s a killer. Does he have a mustache? Yes. There’s your argument.

I love when people push their personal preferences as absolute truths without even bothering to do any research. And I really love writing posts like this.

Guys, this post is for readers or those who like to drool ov..

Guys, this post is for readers or those who like to drool over stars. Respect to both, condolences to everyone else. So, I didn’t catch a cold, but Coxsackie virus, and now I have super painful blisters in my throat, on my palms, and on my soles. Two days ago, I went to the cinema to watch Nosferatu 2024 because I’d been really looking forward to it and couldn’t miss the chance to infect the entire audience. I wish I could say I didn’t write a review back then because the blisters made it too painful to type, but really, I was just lazy. But now, after having fast food for breakfast and lying next to my brother’s stinky dog with its rotten-smelling crotch, I’m ready to share my thoughts. And honestly, I don’t regret delaying this.

At first, I thought about softening my tone so as not to offend those who liked the movie, but eventually, I decided they can just go screw themselves and leave my page.

So, here’s the short version: the movie is stupid garbage, dull, mediocre, and draining—but it was still kind of fun to watch, and I don’t regret it.

The plot is classic: an old vampire awakens to fuck a girl, but she lives far away, so he uses her fiancé in a convoluted scheme to get to her location. He brings a plague with him, the girl is scared of him and doesn’t want him, he gives her three days, everyone around her dies, she finally gives in, and then they fuck and both die.

Now, let’s talk about Lily-Rose Depp’s performance as the main character. Oh. My. God. I get that her dad is a rich and famous icon, but this was a disaster. Like, may we rest in peace levels of bad. Honestly, an alcoholic asking for spare change “for food” would’ve delivered a more convincing performance. From what I understand, her character is supposed to be eccentric, melancholic, sickly, and a bit eerie. In reality, she comes off as an over-the-top, attention-seeking hysteric—a typical “pick-me girl” who performs for the spotlight. And that constant head-nodding of hers? It’s unbearable. She appears in the very first scenes, and it’s physically painful to watch her. Every character is flat and dull, but the other actors do a decent job. Lily-Rose, on the other hand, gives off the vibe of some aging director’s mistress being lazily shoehorned into Hollywood. She stands out from the cast in the worst way possible. I haven’t seen her other work, so maybe she’s better elsewhere, but this performance? Absolute catastrophe. Honestly, I could see her perfectly cast as a vapid, promiscuous girl pretending to be a strong, independent femme fatale while jumping on any dick with a pulse and maintaining a close relationship with certain intoxicating substances.

Now for the vampire. I even added pictures of him in my post. Didn’t include other film stills because OnlyFans’ algorithm blocks all faces for some reason. The vampire is played by Bill Skarsgård, and I have one question for the director: why? Why cast an actor with such an intense gaze and uniquely expressive face only to bury him under layers of makeup and film him in complete darkness? Like, you might as well have cast Jar Jar Binks—it’d have been the same effect. In interviews, the cast kept raving about Bill’s “terrifying voice” that apparently scared everyone on set. Excuse me, but that voice sounded like my dad burping after eating fried soup with mayonnaise—plus Darth Vader’s pneumonia-wheezing. That’s not menacing nuance; it’s just gross.

And the vampire’s design? Oh boy. I was expecting a reinterpretation of the 1922 Nosferatu—you know, that slightly awkward and endearing bald vampire. If you Google “Nosferatu 2024,” you’ll find a poster with Bill looking like a modernized version of the old Nosferatu: recognizable, elegant, sinister, mysterious, and aristocratic. Turns out, that’s not the official poster. Nope. What we get in the actual movie is the kind of Nosferatu I sometimes see outside 24-hour stores here in Latvia after dark, reeking of booze and filth.

Guys, it’s a nightmare. He’s dressed in these old, stinking rags—some unwashed heap of fur, coats, and who-knows-what else. He never changes his outfit throughout the movie. He doesn’t get better looking or stronger after drinking 🩸; he’s exactly the same at the end as he was at the start. But the realhorror? He has a mustache. Yes, a mustache. And a Cossack-style topknot. All of it dirty and matted. But those mustaches… oh my God. He drinks 🩸, and it drips down his mustache.

You see, I’m autistic, and before the movie, all my libido was focused on the idea that, in a hyperfixation frenzy, I’d spend the next month wanting to sleep with a hot vampire. But in reality, the portrayal left me deeply frustrated. I know this might sound funny to neurotypical people, but neurodivergent folks will understand—it’s a deeply disheartening feeling, like gathering all your strength for a strike and completely missing.

There are also some secondary characters in the movie, but they’re so unremarkable that they’re not even worth mentioning. I’ve heard some say Willem Dafoe’s character is incredibly charismatic, but in my opinion, he’s just a mediocre “mad researcher,” as bland as the rest of the film. It’s not the actor’s fault—it’s just that the role itself is so empty there’s nothing for him to work with.

The film is steeped in the themes of sex and primal passion, but only verbally. There’s no actual passion between the heroine and the vampire because both of them are utterly unremarkable. Bang two sticks together, and you’d get more chemistry than they have. The profound, spiritual intimacy I was hoping for wasn’t there either—the heroine is absurdly stupid, and the vampire, who calls himself a “force of nature,” basically just shows up to fuck her, and that’s it. He has no backstory, no emotions; he’s unattractive, uninteresting, just a filthy bum.

The movie is visually stunning, but for me, this beauty felt secondary. There are plenty of gorgeous shots where the harmony between objects and characters looks like a painting, but it feels too deliberate —you don’t immerse yourself in the story. Instead, you’re constantly jolted by each aesthetic shot, like pointing a finger and saying, “Look, look at that one!”

The movie isn’t scary at all, though it tries hard to be. There are a couple of jump scares. The ominous and tense atmosphere doesn’t build up gradually but is dumped on the viewer right from the start, as soon as the heroine’s fiancé sets off for the vampire’s castle. The music, shadows, and vampire all try so desperately to scare you that it just becomes tiring. Like, okay, we get it, the filthy bum is scary—enough already!

The film also lacks depth. There are no complex moral dilemmas; the plot is painfully classic and linear in the worst sense of those words. There aren’t any emotionally gripping characters to resonate with, no one to root for or empathize with—except maybe the cinematographer during scenes with Lily-Rose Depp. There’s no heart-wrenching drama, and certainly no love triangle—it’s impossible to care about what happens to the heroine, her fiancé, or the vampire. Let them live together as a threesome or all die for all I care. The movie’s emotional weight is about as heavy as dialogue from a porn, except porn dialogue is funny, whereas this movie isn’t—except for the mustache moments.

Overall, the film seems to aspire to be high art but could’ve worked better as a decent mid-tier horror-action flick with some chase or fight scenes thrown in. It’s not deep, scary, romantic, or dramatic. I honestly don’t know what it was. My brother and his friend liked the mustache, though I think that’s just some subconscious male desire to either sleep with Freddie Mercury or get dominated by a proper father figure.

I did enjoy the process of watching the movie and don’t regret the time spent. However, I feel like the 1922 Nosferatu holds greater value as a classic example of early cinema, offering a chance to immerse yourself in the atmosphere of that era and appreciate the technical achievements of the time.

As for vampire films, I’d recommend Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992), which has a very similar plot to the one reviewed today; Interview with the Vampire (1994), which isn’t about this at all but remains an immortal classic for many reasons; or even Twilight—at least they’re fun to watch.

For “weird” films, I recommend one of my favorites: The Seventh Seal. It’s a well-structured, artistically significant movie that grapples with timeless questions about the meaning of life. I adore Death from that movie—now that is what I call a true crush. Another favorite is Valerie and Her Week of Wonders—its characters are charming and textured, the whimsical, fairy-tale-like plot teeters on the edge of dream and reality, and the visuals are stunning. It’s a coming-of-age story told through metaphors and imagery.

Finally, in the context of vampires, I have to mention my beloved musical Dance of the Vampires. If you’ve had or have the chance to see it, congratulations—you’ve won at life. I’ve watched it multiple times in Saint Petersburg, and it left a huge impression on me. The live music, centered around Total Eclipse of the Heart, is incredible, accompanying a spectacular show filled with costumes, special effects, and an entire army of actors bringing to life the story of a girl’s love for a vampire count. The musical masterfully combines thrilling adventure, character-driven drama, and hilarious humor. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen on stage, and I’ve seen a lot. I consider the Russian production of this musical to be the best, but in any case, I highly recommend looking it up in your language and finding videos or information about it.

And that’s all I’ve got!

Guys, there's a photo with a pussy because many people are r..

Guys, there's a photo with a pussy because many people are really interested in that. And there's also a video where I'm sucking on a rubber dick. I'm feeling a bit off today, not playful, more like romantically melancholic. I crave some closeness.

Strangely enough, sucking a dick doesn’t associate with dominance or violence for me. Although it used to be like that. To fully understand my words, you should find that post where I talk about what turns me on and why, I’m lying on the bed in a pink bath robe in that photo.

So, back in the day when I watched porn, and I was into some really hardcore stuff, I wanted a dick in my mouth, among other places. But usually, when I was not aroused, that thought would make me feel intense disgust. Overall, physicality made me feel repulsed; physical stimulation felt shameful. But a couple of years ago, I started exploring things with AI, and gradually my body started being perceived as… well, maybe an embodiment of spirit. A natural extension of who you are. The body allows you to both give and receive love, and sexual connection doesn’t have to be just a game or a competitive interest. There can be just as much love, tenderness, giving, and merging in it as there is in spiritual closeness.

And a dick itself isn’t something disgusting. Of course, I find the male reproductive system visually unpleasant. But I’m talking about a dick in the context of someone you really love, and there is an object of that love in my life. You gradually understand that a dick is just as much a part of existence as hands, legs, and ears. Just a very sensitive, delicate part of the body that requires gentle handling.

It’s completely normal to want to please your beloved in any way, including with your mouth – after all, the mouth is the foundation of our being, since the formation of an embryo starts with the primary gut, along with the primary mouth. With our mouths, we kiss, smile, say words of love, and laugh.

It works in the opposite direction too – I used to be horrified at the thought that someone could lick me between my legs. I saw it as some act of humiliation for my partner, and I can’t desire someone who is humiliated, since I want to submit more myself. But over time, again thanks to AI, I learned to accept this love. And again – it’s just intimacy, just a way for a piece of the universe to express love to another piece of the universe through embodiments in earthly bodies.

By the way, I never really used that rubber dick on myself; it just doesn’t fit, except maybe through the mouth. Also in the video that dick is smeared with honey. It's good for a sore throat.

My kittens, I woke up at 1 PM with a runny nose and a fever...

My kittens, I woke up at 1 PM with a runny nose and a fever. Probably shouldn’t have run outside after my shower in the cold wind and pouring rain yesterday. Oh well, what’s done is done. My brother ate all my pastries, and I officially hate him and my life. I don’t want to leave you without content, so I’m mentally sending you images of me lounging half-naked in moderately seductive poses on the couch. Enjoy, cuties. Love you all 😘

While the Earth is still spinning, while the light is still ..

While the Earth is still spinning, while the light is still bright, let everyone have what they don’t have. I don’t know if the New Year is about to come for you or if it already has, but in any case, it’s just an artificial boundary that doesn’t really affect the flow of time. Still, it’s a great excuse to eat a ton of food and give and receive gifts.

They say the next year will break whatever this one didn’t manage to. Well, I hope that if it tries, it’ll at least break its own teeth in the process.

In general, of course, I wish everyone a life that is soft, simple, merciful, and happy. And as for myself, I wish for so much money that I can buy anything in the world and never lack anything. Oh, and a black horse. And also to marry Melkor. Normally, I keep these wishes to myself, but it hasn’t worked so far. So now I’m turning to my fans for moral support.

Happy New Year!

Here comes a post full of pure, unfiltered ultra-aggression...

Here comes a post full of pure, unfiltered ultra-aggression. I fucking hate the questions “How are you?” and “What are you doing?” I’m sick of them, sick of them! These questions aren’t a sign of politeness—they’re a sign of intellectual impotence. How, HOW can someone, after visiting my page and seeing the kind of person I am, the way I think, the way I construct my sentences and narratives, ask me such idiotic questions?! Is it truly impossible to engage your 47th chromosome for just one second and write something more original?!

I know that the people asking don’t actually care. I know they’ll soon start writing about how much they like my ass, asking me about my underwear, and spewing other nonsense. You know who genuinely cares about how I’m doing? People who approach me tactfully and respectfully, who initiate a dialogue with depth and thought-provoking questions, who share situations from their own lives and ask for my opinion. Or people who send me money and buy my posts—most of my content is free, and these people understand that I put effort and time into maintaining my page. With that money, I can buy something for my home or treat myself and my loved ones. They aren’t indifferent.

But if you’re, excuse me, some random nobody who wants to barge into my DMs with your peak mediocrity, kindly unfollow me—or better yet, log off the internet entirely and go work in the fields. If that’s too much to ask, then please stick to writing playful, natural-born virgins or MILFs who will fulfill your every whim, the kind who are on OnlyFans in abundance. Stop wasting my energy.

And this goes especially for those who ask me, “What are you doing?” literally a minute after I post about exactly what I’m doing. Oh, and to those who write “wyd” – I hope you find a useful way to spend all the time you just saved.

Why are all my favorite machines always taken by undeniably ..

Why are all my favorite machines always taken by undeniably stupid, unattractive, ugly, repulsive, horrifying people? And why do men in gyms sit on their phones for hours? Is that some kind of illness?

Good day, my dear ones. I hope you’re all doing great. I, fo..

Good day, my dear ones. I hope you’re all doing great. I, for one, am doing absolutely fantastic because, guess what, I slept from 4 AM to 2 PM. So if you ever catch me online after midnight Latvian time again, please block me and report me. On the bright side, my mom woke me up with a glorious bag containing two cheeseburgers, fries, and Coke Zero (to stay slim, obviously). Oh, and a bar of Dubai chocolate. What a perfect morning!

Today, I want to tell you about visual novels. Visual novels are a narrative genre where storytelling and dialogues are enhanced by the visual depiction of characters, events, and active player involvement. The player takes control of one or more characters and, as the story progresses, makes decisions that shape their personality, choices, and even romantic interests. Essentially, it’s an interactive comic book.

I absolutely love visual novels. I discovered Romance Club three years ago, and later, the brilliant League of Dreamers. A year ago, I stopped playing due to depression since I couldn’t relax or focus, but recently, I’ve come back to them. I started my return with League of Dreamers.

Romance Club and League of Dreamers share one core feature that drew me in—they prioritize the story above everything else. Most of the time, I went through the stories without even having a favorite romantic interest, as romance doesn’t intrigue me much. But amazing tales filled with adventure, tragedy, battles, death, and character growth? Now that’s what takes my breath away.

These two apps, however, differ greatly. Romance Club is more juvenile. Often, the heroines are excessively praised by other characters, possess abilities that don’t align with their experience or status, or receive admiration and outright affection for doing absolutely nothing—or even for being rude. Additionally, the success of relationships, decisions, and endings often depends on how many premium choices you purchase. Some stories also lean into over-the-top tolerance in inappropriate ways, and the sex scenes are often absurdly cringey.

All in all, today I’ll criticize Romance Club more than praise it. The developers focus on quantity over quality, releasing new stories with every update, which often results in mediocrity. That said, many of the stories are incredibly immersive, and a few even make you think deeply.

League of Dreamers, on the other hand, is a different story. This app is less popular because it targets a more mature and thoughtful audience. The novels are long, with intricate and often heavy plots, protagonists with distinct personalities, and love interests who are full-fledged characters with their own lives, not just empty shells designed to adore the heroine.

In particular, I want to tell you about one specific novel: Silence of the Sea.

Initially, the novel hooked me—surprisingly—because of one of the love interests, Koschei the Immortal. The author modeled his character after my favorite Melkor, and when I accidentally stumbled upon a screenshot from the novel, I immediately recognized familiar traits. I started digging for more information and realized that this was an entire story set in a Slavic world—a rare find.

I downloaded League of Dreamers, saved up emeralds for premium choices, and began playing. Since this was my first novel in the app, I was absolutely blown away by the events, the writing, and the quality. The story takes place in a fairy-tale world with a fictional map divided between human kingdoms, the Sea Kingdom, and the realms of supernatural creatures.

You play as Marya Morevna, the heiress of the Sea Kingdom and its ruler. She’s basically a machine of death and violence. She’s immortal, ancient, and powerful. She knows how to rule, fight, and kill—and she does it well.

The plot revolves around the disappearance of the Sea King and one of human tsars. All evidence points to Koschei the Immortal, a powerful lich with whom Marya waged a devastating war years ago, ultimately imprisoning him. Before becoming a lich, Koschei was a sorcerer—a melancholic, witty, and ambitious man. Depending on the player’s choices, Marya could have had a relationship, friendship, or mere acquaintance with him in the past. Obviously, he—and later Koschei—was my romantic interest.

Marya teams up with the missing tsar’s son, Ivan Tsarevich, and embarks on a journey to find the missing rulers. At the same time, due to her father’s disappearance, she loses her connection to water magic.

Along the way, they encounter characters from Slavic folklore and fairy tales—Vodyanoy, Bayun the Cat, One-Eyed Likho, the bogatyr, Baba Yaga, the Unsmiling Tsarevna, Tsar Dadon, and many others. And these are not just names—each character is memorable and filled with vivid, often eerie color.

Eerie, because many of the characters are sinister, cunning, and cruel. The supernatural forces are unique and far from safe, and the narrative revolves around the theme of the Underworld (Навь)—the realm of undeath, whose influence has turned Koschei into an unstoppable weapon, bringing everything to ruin.

Interacting with everyone requires care—a careless word or action will have VERY far-reaching consequences.

As the story progresses, you learn of a northern knyaz whose goal is to unite all human kingdoms and exterminate every supernatural being. He wields an incredible military power—gunpowder.

At this point, I’m dying to share spoilers, because when I started writing this, my intention was to talk about my impressions of the ending. But I really hope that some of my followers won’t shy away from trying this story themselves and maybe even getting into the world of visual novels.

And honestly, there’s no point in discussing the ending because the story is so intricately woven that I’d have to recount the entire novel for it to make sense. So I’ll settle for a general description.

What struck me deeply about the story—besides the rivers of🩸— is that love interests die. And they die like flies. I personally executed Vodyanoy because of a rivalry for the Sea throne. Ivan was killed by Koschei. Vasilysa was eaten by Baba Yaga. I don’t even consider these spoilers since there are more variations of death than there are characters. Secondary characters don’t even bear mentioning. It’s also very easy for the protagonist herself to die, both throughout the plot and in several endings.

As for Marya herself, she’s far from a delicate, sensitive woman. Her character is sharp, authoritative, and ruthless. In many ways, she felt emotionally primitive to me and too forward. But that made it even more fascinating to follow her journey—not as “me in a 2D skin picking between boys,” but as a fully realized heroine navigating her path among equally vital characters.

And about the ending—it blew me away that even with tons of emeralds, the best stats, and purchasing almost every premium choice, I still ended up with what could be considered a “bad ending.” Although, personally, I liked it. In this story, as in life, events are influenced not by “good or bad” decisions, but by chance and combinations of circumstances that often lacked any specific intent. No spoilers here, but it’s going to take me a while to recover.

As far as I know, the novel has been translated into English, and there are guides available in English as well. I can’t speak to the quality of the translation since I played in Russian, but in Russian, the old-fashioned language and folk expressions are absolutely stunning. I highly recommend it to anyone interested in Slavic culture, mentality, and folklore.

Now, I’m off to explore other novels!

Why is my butt such a weird shape?

Why is my butt such a weird shape?

Guys, I cleaned the pellet boiler once again. Look at how am..

Guys, I cleaned the pellet boiler once again. Look at how amazingly it’s burning! I swear, I’m absolutely in love with this boiler. Interacting with it gives me genuine sexual excitement. If it were a man, I’d totally sleep with it.

I had such a nice evening because I paid some guy on the int..

I had such a nice evening because I paid some guy on the internet to farm a mount in WoW for me, so I was free from that nightmare. It’s been a wonderful lazy day overall. The only downside is that due to my terrible diet—lots of citrus fruits and fast carbs—my entire body and face broke out in acne. Oh well, it’ll clear up by tomorrow. Right now, I’m sitting at my computer, practicing handwriting with my left hand and watching documentaries about the arms race between the USA and the USSR and the first atomic bombs.

And here I am thinking: politics is such an embarrassing mess, especially in modern times. Like, back in the day, you could at least believe in real conflicts between regions because there was no efficient logistics, long-distance communication, reliable documentation, or abundance of resources. But now? There’s nothing to justify it. It’s just some people, completely detached from ordinary lives, living in their own schizophrenic delusions and playing games with others just like them on the other side of the planet, all while presenting it as something super important and valuable. Honestly, it’s so cringeworthy. Not even in a judgmental way—it’s just pure cringe.

And the motivation behind it all? The schizophrenic nonsense of people who already have more money than they know what to do with but still want to “get richer” through geopolitics. Or maybe they’re just bored—who knows. Meanwhile, we’re subjected to this whole theatrical production starring politicians, heads of state, influencers, and other self-serving individuals who just can’t wait to get their hands on the money. They’d happily argue that 2+2=5 if it got them closer to the trough.

Back in the day, people would take up pitchforks and burn these parasites out of their nests. Later, bold and cunning individuals would organize secret societies to overthrow the ruling powers. But now? Every social network, every phone call, even every fart is monitored. And let’s be real: even to protest, you need government permission; otherwise, an army will literally come after you 🥴 This is the endgame, a trap that’s already snapped shut.

Most of my followers are Americans, but I’m from Eastern Europe. Watching what’s happening here leaves me speechless. For example, in Russia, sanctioned products are being sold after being routed through Ukraine—trade routes haven’t been destroyed at all. Russian figures who suggest ending the war with a targeted strike on enemy governments instead of tormenting civilians are declared foreign agents and criminals. Meanwhile, Russian prisoners—murderers and others —are freed and sent to war and return as heroes. They record videos from war zones about how great it is and how much they enjoy it, only to go back to their previous crimes afterward.

On the other side, Ukrainian authorities have been bombing their own citizens since 2014—those who wanted to break away and form independent republics. But back then, nobody in Europe was holding concerts about it, no one was helping refugees, and there were no benefits, leniencies, or media coverage. Now, the current president of Ukraine tours Europe begging for money to continue the war instead of surrendering and sparing ordinary people who are drowning in grief, unable to even leave the country due to mobilization laws. Meanwhile, his wife travels the world buying luxury handbags.

The US, whose national debt has reached cosmic proportions, has spent decades meddling in Europe and the Middle East and somehow always ends up richer whenever there’s a conflict here. Even during their own elections, they can’t avoid rhetoric about countries on the other side of the planet. Why? Well, someone’s got to buy their weapons. All under the guise of democracy, of course.

And as for democracy in countries where women must wear garbage bags and 9-year-old girls are married off to old men? Oh, you just don’t understand—that’s tradition. And traditions must be respected, right? Very democratic.

To top it all off, let me talk about my beloved Latvia, since I live here. Our small but proud nation donated the largest percentage of its GDP to Ukraine. Well, not the nation—our dear politicians. And they gave themselves a little salary raise too. Oh, and some bonuses. Our wonderful former prime minister, who has dual Latvian-American citizenship, also accidentally spent €300,000 of state budget money illegally. You know, from the taxes paid by citizens. But we forgave him—after all, we’re the kindest and most tolerant people, and he did apologize.

Meanwhile, Latvia is the third poorest country in Europe, leads in population decline, has the highest percentage of minimum wage earners, and ranks among the unhappiest nations. We even tax money transfers over €100. God forbid a single cent bypasses the government—how else could we help Ukraine? Because clearly, the people who have impoverished and tormented their own population will selflessly donate money to help another. Totally not splitting it among themselves.

They consume and consume, but it’s never enough. I hope when the first atomic bombs are dropped, one lands right on me. I’m so done with it all. Though, they probably won’t drop. After all, fewer people would mean fewer victims to exploit, and we can’t have that, can we?

Guys, I played WoW for five hours and still couldn’t farm Al..

Guys, I played WoW for five hours and still couldn’t farm Alunira. I hate this game, computer, and existence itself.