Chrissy. 29. I write them sad-like stories. I reblog Fullmetal Alchemist, Danny Phantom, random other shows, and awful memes. Original fandom posts are tagged with the show's full name. Reblogs are tagged with acronyms. Fanfiction tags use the acronym followed by fanfiction: like "dp fanfiction" or "bnha fanfiction". She/her pronouns.
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The thing about "knowing" metric as a US American is that there's actually at least 2 levels to it. Like I can know there's 1.6 kilometers to a mile. And I can know a meter is a bit over 3 feet/ 1 foot is about 30 cm. And with these pieces of information, I can very quickly know with a decent approximation what a length in metric translates to.
But where this fails is that there are people out there fighting height battles where the difference between 170cm and 172cm is astronomical and possibly defining to their identity, and me making that kind of ~2cm approximation error with my "mostly good enough" understanding of metric might get me summarily executed.
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I think when you correctly identify a trauma that is the base of a woe of yours it should just disappear. It should be like "aaahh. you got me" and vanish and leave 100 dollars behind
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Ceaseless Watcher, Turn your Gaze upon this wretched THING.
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Buyer wants to return the order due to hidden nudity on the piece, not visible in the listing pics.
So, here's the listing pics:



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you just doordashed yourself a knuckle sandwich pal
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Can I Please Eat In The Computer Room Tonight? by Nicole Nikolich (2025)
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Can you believe it? This thing 👇 just told a lie.
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it is simply not a midwest festival without a corn pit

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Starting a new sports team called the Tampa Bay Trespassers and they play any sport that they can break onto the field of
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one of my fears is that i'll be 7 hours down my dash reblogging things not knowing that, like, the end of the world is happening. everyone is posting shit like FUCK THE MARTIANS HAVE TOUCHED DOWN IN LOS ANGELES CALIFORNIA meanwhile i'm like here's a picture of snoopy :-)
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ads targeted to women: omg you are thirtyyyy. kill yourself
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How about you pipe down and keep showing me pictures of BIRDS, Tumblr???
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A few months ago on a Saturday morning I was playing tennis with my friends at the public courts. And there was a guy on the court next to us who was standing there clearly waiting for someone. Like hitting some serves alone. Looking around. Bouncing a ball. Looking at his phone. Looking around more.
After about 20 minutes of this a second guy finally showed up at the court and said, loud enough for me to hear, "Sorry man. I accidentally drove to work."
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