he/they love reading and drawing|| fanboy of a lot||
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Chai tea bag + lil but of brown sugar + apple cider packet + 16 oz. mug of hot but not quite boiling water
it will not Fix You but like. maybe. maybe.
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directors using colorful or "impossible" lighting to convey mood and meaning and beauty my beloved. directors making night scenes impossible to see for the sake of realism my beloathed.
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no, spotify, i don't want to use ai to "turn my ideas into playlists". i already fucking do that with my brain and hands and i do it for fun. what, should i get ai to pet my cat for me? to play my silly games for me? to spend time with my beautiful wife for me? how about i rend you asunder
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eat an entire can of sweetened condensed milk. you deserve it.
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Sometimes I think about Andrew and how he could actually be a great hitter for the mob. Like if he were under Neil (ayooooo) working as his right hand. His lover, his shield, his sword...
See below evidence: ~ He never forgets a face. ~ He's good at reading people. ~ He's as much of a bitch as Neil but less loud about it. ~ He has zero problem getting in a fucker's business. ~ He beat the shit out of four grown men single-handedly and now he's got actual weapons. ~ He's nosy and he listens, if someone were about to flip on Neil Andrew would be the first to know. And he'd take care of it immediately.
N: Andrew, I think we're gonna have to kill this guy A: Say no more.
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let the contemporary record show mr beast was pretty ignorable for his whole career if you were just like, busy.
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when people put "trigger warning" on their content without specifying what the trigger warning is for
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"use chatgpt" that's the devil talking. buy four caffeinated drinks and pull an all nighter. this is the way.
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i love you visible brushstrokes. i love you glue warped scrapbook pages. i love you awkward poems. i love you junk journal with faded receipts. i love you poorly composed journal layout. I love you unintentionally blurry photographs. i love you asymmetrical beading. i love you curling freeform crochet. i love you fingerprints on pottery. i love you reused materials. i love you improvised instruments. i love you mistakes. i love you bravery to make it anyway. i love you creativity that hasn't been wiped clean of every drop of humanity and sanitized and commodified.
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the front seat of the car is a type of confessional
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stop putting touchscreens in cars and get to the features people actually want: oscillating vent fans, visors that move automatically to block the sun, and the ability to fire red koopa shells at people who change lanes without using their turn signal
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Percy listens to those whale noises that people use to sleep and he just listens to them like a podcast.
And any time he hears someone like Annabeth listening to them he's like "Wow Daphne is really something else. Honestly I can't believe she would do that"
And like she's like "what?"
And Percy just translates the entire thing to her and instead of calming sounds to help her concentrate she now has Percy tell her all the whale drama which she is oddly immersed with.
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