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#I do know why
ato-dato · 3 months
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Might go crazy tonight and draw red dead fanart. Just kidding... Unless....
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tech-obssessed-shark · 3 months
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NOOOOOOOOOOOO
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
I CAN’T I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE THIS GUY HE HE FOLLOWS ME WHY DOES HE EXIST WHYYY
I HATE I HATE I- IVE BARELY EVEN SEEN ANYTHING ABOUT SHATTERED GLASS RODIMUS AND I HATE HIM THEY GOT RID OF GAY ADHD ENERGY-
(I will never be able to watch any youtuber because OF RODIMUS NOW)
(The guy is Dr Disrespect btw- I’ve heard of him but I don’t watch him and NOW I CANT BECAUSE OF HIM)
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wyrmscockfortress · 1 month
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based off ea karlach and the ea karlach mod !!
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gimmeurtmi · 3 months
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i don’t know why but lately get cool has been my main comfort song
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the-empress-7 · 1 year
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I wonder if Charles is thinking about moving to Windsor and giving Clarence House to Harry Meghan always wanted to be in London I don’t see a divorce anytime soon I feel they will get their part in part out deal I do think the Royal Lodge will go to William as a trade off to having Harry back in the fold part time the kids titles just cemented that return
About that. He went from not wanting to do anything to with Windsor to suddenly being very interested in it. I wonder why
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bl00dysk1es · 4 months
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grrrrr i’m breaking out and idk why :((((
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ribghoul · 1 year
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idk why i try to eat granola every morning for breakfast when i hate it
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angesaurus · 2 years
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I discovered that someone blocked me and I don’t know why!!!! 🤣 I figured it out by going onto mobile and comparing comments.
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addictt-with-a-pen · 1 year
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bugprinz · 2 years
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something horrible is happening inside of me...and i dont know why...
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yelenabemylova · 10 months
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i can't stop crying and i don't know why ugh
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firstdegreefangirl · 1 year
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I'm working a long shift tonight, so let's do a special school night sleepover! Ask box is open. Leave me questions/comments/funny jokes/stories about your dog ... I'm up for just about whatever. Fics I've published, what I'm working on, what you're working on, reading, arts and crafts, any of it. If there's something you've wanted to know, here's your chance!
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wajjs · 2 years
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why is usamericans saying that white skinned/black skinned latines aren't actually latines such a common experience
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butchfalin · 5 months
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the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again
#yeehaw#1k#5k#10k#posts that got cursed. blasted. im making these tag updates after... 19 hours?#also i have been told it should say speech loss bc nonverbal specifically refers to the permanent state. did not know that!#unfortunately i fear it is so far past containment that even if i edited it now it would do very little. but noted for future reference#edit 2: nvm enough ppl have come to rb it from me directly that i changed the wording a bit. hopefully this makes sense#also. in case anyone is curious. though i doubt anyone who is commenting these things will check the original tags#1) my friend did not do this on purpose in any way. it was not intended to distract me or to hit on me. im a lesbian hes a gay man. cmon now#he felt very bad about it afterwards. i thought it was hilarious but it was very embarrassed and apologetic#2) “why didn't he use 🫵🏼?” didn't exist yet. “why didn't he use 🆗?” dunno! we'd been using a lot of hand emojis. 👌🏼 is an ok sign#like it makes sense. it was just a silly mixup. also No i did not invent 👉🏼👌🏼 as a gesture meaning sex. do you live under a rock#3) nonspeaking episodes are a recurring thing in my life and have been since i was born. this is not a quirky one-time thing#it is a pervasive issue that is very frustrating to both myself and the people i am trying to communicate with. in which trying to speak is#extremely distressing and causes very genuine anguish. this post is not me making light of it it's just a funny thing that happened once#it's no different than if i post about a funny thing that happened in conjunction w a physical disability. it's just me talking abt my life#i don't mind character tags tho. those can be entertaining. i don't know what any of you are talking about#Except the ppl who have said this is pego/ryu or wang/xian. those people i understand and respect#if you use it as a writing prompt that's fine but send it to me. i want to see it#aaaand i think that's it. everyday im tempted to turn off rbs on it. it hasn't even been a week
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callisteios · 1 month
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i made a character uquiz. i 100% promise you that you will get a character you know AND like
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hamletthedane · 3 months
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I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.
I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.
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