Elise Dartmouth Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bristol

Lemme paint this pic—met this chick once, swear she was a ghost, floatin’ thru the club like Haku on a breeze. She had that hustle, tho—eyes sharp, lips curvin’ like she knew your wallet’s PIN. I was like, “Damn, she’s a dragon in disguise!” Reminded me of Miyazaki’s world—beautiful, twisted, deep as fuck. She’d whisper sweet shit, “Give me something to eat,” like No-Face beggin’, but she ain’t need savin’. She *was* the river, drownin’ fools for fun.

Dartmouth-based author uncovers the Madam of the Maritimes

From immovable mountains to endless blue skies. But our story today concerns one horny dude. (I do ought to warn you, his words are quite crude.).

But then, out of nowhere, I get a text from my sister. She’s in a bit of a pickle. Her car broke down on the way to Dartmouth. I’m like, “Great, just what I need.” So, I hop on my bike and pedal like a madman to get to her. I’m zooming down College Way, dodging pedestrians, feeling like I’m in some action movie.

US researchers seek to legitimise AI mental health care