How do we feel one day before the final?

Discoholic 🪩

oozey mess
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

shark vs the universe
RMH
d e v o n

@theartofmadeline

Andulka

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
taylor price
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Origami Around
occasionally subtle

Monterey Bay Aquarium
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

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@gayrainbowcandycloud
How do we feel one day before the final?

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well when all else fails at least there’s daydreaming about your oc getting tortured and abused and experimented on and assaulted and dehumanized and torn apart and surgically modified and
me when there's work at work
ocd is so fucking stupid like I be sitting on the bus thinking 'mm what if I shat myself and I didn't notice'

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My favorite human ritual is the unspoken rule that if you enjoyed a concert, you must clap without stopping at the end (if you were seated, you may rise to express further respect). The musician will bow, then exit the stage, but you must keep clapping. The musician must return and act surprised, bow again, then exit once more, and you continue to clap. Then, the musician will return and play one or two extra numbers (you stop clapping during the music) and at the end after they leave for the last time, you can clap as long as you wish but the musician will not return. It’s just such a cute song and dance. I've been to shows where the musician expects it (to the point that i could see their timer backstage that indicated how much time they had left for the show and they bowed for the first time with 20 minutes to spare) so they just go through the motion of pretending to end the show but the extra number is completely planned and we all expect it. Everyone in the audience is in on it but we all just do it anyway because it’s like a conversation were the audience and the musician are saying Thank You to each other over and over. Makes me feel some type of way
GET THE KNIVES OUT COUSINS
It’s stabing time
Start sharpening everyone, anytime now.

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Chat gpt you will never be her
You should be able to rot in bed for 2, maybe 3 hours after waking up before it starts affecting what time it is. If I wake up at 8:30 and lie in bed for 2hr it should still be 8:30 when I get up
for a long time i lived alone, but then i got a service dog. after a lot of training, the service dog came to live with me—except, the same day the trainers brought quincy, an orange tabby tomcat also showed up.
"you didn't tell us you had a cat!" said the trainers, both very upset (because they hadn't trained quincy to live with a cat).
"i don't have a cat," i said. "I don't know who this is."
the cat never went away. i named him poe dameron and he lived with me and quincy. they got along fine, in their own way.
we had our quiet adventures. poe was very cuddly but sometimes he just took off for a day or two. once he got into some paint.
after a while, i found out that poe dameron really lived across the alleyway, and belonged to my neighbor elizabeth's teenaged son, and his real name was PUMPKIN. but poe apparently didn't like the teenaged son (probably not least because he named him PUMPKIN), so he had come to live with us instead. elizabeth was fine with it.
the years went by and one day poe dameron crossed the rainbow bridge too soon. i took his ashes to elizabeth. we were very sad.
a few weeks later, she asked me to come over to see something.
it turned out that poe dameron had also lived with a THIRD lady, a few streets over. this lady, whom neither of us knew, was a painter, and she had made this painting of poe dameron. i don't know what she called him, but she painted him like one of your french girls.
"i think you should have it," elizabeth said, tactfully. "after all, he spent the most time with you." i was quite sure she just didn't want this hideous painting in her gabillion-dollar house, but i agreed.
the painting now hangs in the kitchen over my stove—not least because its brick-red frame matches my curtains. and because it delights me to see poe dameron every day, looking so fluffy and sultry, like an orientalist renaissance odalisque.
Everyone reblog consummate cabana boy moocher and orange cat extraordinaire Poe Dameron and his odalisque.

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