Great. Now it's time to sleep. I'm bored again. I'm hungry. I don't wanna sleep. ๐
๐๐๐๐๐ฅ๐ฝ๐๐ง
๐ฅฌ๐ถ๐ซ๐ฅฅ๐ซ๐
๐ซ๐ฅญ๐๐๐๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐๐ฐ๐ฅ๐ซ๐ฅจ๐ฅฏ๐ฅ๐ง๐ง๐๐๐ฅฉ๐ฅ๐๐๐๐ญ๐ฅช๐ฎ๐ฏ๐ซ๐ฅ๐ง๐ฅ๐ณ๐ฅ๐ฒ๐ซ๐ฅฃ๐ฅ๐ฟ๐ง๐ง๐ฅซ๐ฑ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ข๐ฃ๐ค๐ฅ๐ฅฎ๐ก๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐ฅก๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฆช๐ฆ๐ง๐จ๐ฉ๐ช๐๐ฐ๐ง๐ฅง๐ซ๐ฌ๐ญ๐ฎ๐ฏโ๐ต๐ฅ๐ซ๐ผ๐ธ๐น๐บ๐ป๐ฅ๐ฅค๐ง๐ง๐ง
Only real ones will notice I've only put things I like to eat.
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I went from Wilbur Lore to Oli Orionsound and I feel like I've just taken every drug at once
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The human body is an absolute fucking train wreck. Overheating itself because the bacteria/virus can't survive in high temperatures is smart in theory but like... neither can I???
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Day 3
Beginnings
Have some baby Arannis leaving home to become a white mage T-T they grow up so fast. Also a shameless excuse to put a sad baby sister in there
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reading smut at my desk while going on hour 2 of the IT training zoom call
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3 days ago, I found myself neglecting a work in progress, captivated by a scene that has taken up residence in my mind without paying rent for quite some time.
"Just a small one-shot," I told myself. "Just to purge it from my system, to refocus on bigger projects," I convinced myself.
As I sit here, 32,761 words deep, I've yet to see the light of day.
I exist in the realm of this one-shot, living and breathing its sinful smuttiness as my sustenance.
It seems I am destined to never finish my WIPs
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Having class until 8.00 p.m should be illegal.
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I laid down in my bed at 7pm and next thing I know is poof I'm waking up at 11pm like WTFFFFF
should I go back to sleep or will I not be able to?? !!!!! ๐ญ๐
๐ฎโ๐จ
ooof
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mother how many times do i have to tell you that "joking" about eating foods you know for a fact i hate while im nearly starving is not fucking funny or nice
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Machete and Vasco are so pomegranate-and-the-hand-that-slices coded. To me.
Pomegranates are seen as messy, bloody, inconvenient fruits. You slice or tear or bite and in return for your effort you come away underwhelmed, disgusted, and stained too deep to wash. The consumption of a pomegranate is a violent act of defilement, for both the fruit and the eater.
But that is because most do not understand how to open a pomegranate. They have little patience for the precise carving. They see no point in coreing the fruit gently, no reason to be reverent as they pull the quarters apart. When done correctly, opening a pomegranate leaves little mess. Your fingers will still stain, your knife will still slick, but there will be no pool of crimson drowning both you and the fruit.
The seeds are only sweet to those who understand the merit of a light hand and intricate slicing. Why put in so much effort for a food so bitter and clearly armored against consumption? Surely it must not yearn to be eaten.
(^insane about silly catholic dogs)
.
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