Licensed rat trepannologist

it’s bc im on that damn phone honestly

human and bug relations will change by the end of the century

stop using chatgpt!!!! take a bronze pin and carve your questions onto an ox scapula, then toss it into the fire!!!! use the cracks to divine the gods answer!!!!

i love sluts i love perverts i love dykes i love faggots i love aromantics i love freaks i love librarians i love ibuprofen

gay walmart: unexpected item in fagging area or whatever. Fuck it just reblog this shit

people saying my evil clone would be called greenstonedust but you have failed to consider that 'evil' and 'opposite' are not the same. we all have capacity for evil and thus my opposite self would not be evil, they would be as complex and flawed as i am, just in ways that contrast my own flaws. my EVIL clone would be called shadowkiller666dust the fallen angel of blogging. and they would be cool as fuccckkkkkkkk.

What if you were asked a loaded question about your opinions on any sort of gender thing, and you dismissed the whole subject by going "oh, I'm not religious" and not elaborate on that.

oh dont worry im not drinking tonight

salad is mostly items

if i was in an alien movie i'd be luring the xenomorph into a hot wok and adding chili, garlic, ginger, shaoxin wine, scallions, white pepper and sesame oil

todays wordle has 6 letters. nobody will guess it because it is impossible. the tears of wordle community will power my death ray

(no beers in) So how do you perceive me in the privacy of your thoughts

going out west to chase cowboys and god

part of the fun of the original alien is the horror of the nostromo itself imo. it’s a cell of corporate greed ferrying narrowly-trained workers across barren space. it’s huge and yet claustrophobic, cockpits crammed with machinery giving way to yawning berths dripping chains and water. the supercomputer is named mother in a stroke of human anthropomorphization, but instead of providing comfort or protection, it’s only a courier between its creator and its wailing brood. ripley yells “mother! mother!” at a matronly-voiced computer that speaks calmly over her helplessness. the ship is full of endless details and patterns and unlabeled buttons and dials the audience can’t entirely make sense of; to do anything on the ship is a rigorous, technical process, and we must depend on the characters to know it. the internal mechanics of the ship are so alien that a literal alien can hide among the bits and bobs and not be noticed. it’s great.