I write things sometimes and they usually have typoes. Icon by @roenais!
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Thereโs a big part of me that wants to put together a little raffle for a local charity. And like, Iโd be raffling off some of my woodturned pieces. And the charity is cool as fuck and saves lives and theyโre great.
The problem is that would likely mean revealing personal info, annnnnnnnd, no? No. Noโฆ
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Internal organs should be heard and not seen.
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Throw a cod/other fish up in the air and Xb will catch it in his mouth and eat it like a seal btw
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Strongly debating creating a Dadsona so I can register for the woodturning forums (they have a ban on using online handles for some reason)
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nothing scarier than being a fan of a fic and then becoming mutuals with the author. like hi shakespeare. big fan of your fake dating au
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Something about being in this office makes me want to tunnel through the floor until I punch through the crust and into the mantle where I can wrap myself up in the pseudo liquid rock and not move for a week and a half.
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I could get in my car and drive to PEI. I could do that. I would definitely not regret getting in my car and driving to PEI.
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๐ซต YOU. STOP WHERE YOU ARE
say something nice about prev!!! find something cool about them!! give their blog a skim!!
compliments are FREE TO GIVE so GIVE THEM OUT. pls. thamnk. (โ โโ โขโ แดโ โขโ โโ )
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You all are the coolest people I vaguely know
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Chapter four of Dead Rocks is up!
Joe, Cleo, and TFC meet two new friends, and get a new appreciation for their foe...
Enjoy!
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parasocialism: when you think a public figure is more left wing than they really are because you personally like them
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the whole 'nobody would miss me if i were gone' line of reasoning is so completely and mindblowingly false, it's almost laughable if you take a couple steps back. there's a lady at work who has been there for maybe two or three weeks and has only talked to me a handful of times, ask where the necklace i usually wear went. another person asked where i was cause i wasn't scheduled for about a week. i regularly think of friends who have deactivated their accounts or who i've lost contact with and what id tell them. i still think about people i haven't talked to for years even though i didn't know them well. people still think about you even if you're a passing specter on the street. and that's not even holding a candle to how much the people who are personally involved in your life care. people do notice and care. all the time. it might be hard to see it or remember it but people do care. ily.
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Every time someone comments on my old fic, i feel like I'm an old actor getting paid residuals. Appreciate you, old-fic-commenters. Key source of emotional income, tbh.
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